


Woman of Steel

by starbucksmocha



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Clark Kent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 88,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbucksmocha/pseuds/starbucksmocha
Summary: What if Kal-El had been a girl?  It's well known that girls by and large develop faster than boys.  Just how much would Clara Kent, who'd developed her powers earlier, affect things?  How much of the story of Smallville would have been changed had the protagonist been female?  And how does Kal-El being a girl change her relationship with Lex?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A few things before you begin:
> 
> 1) Welcome! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.  
> 2) The violence and romance in this fic will be canon-standard, which is why I didn't feel the need to archive any warnings. If that ever changes, I will let you know and make sure that gets reflected in the warning section.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara knows her parents love her despite the fact that she is an alien. But she can’t help but feel even more isolated than before. She is fundamentally different than everyone else around her, and although only she and her parents know the truth about her origins, it doesn’t change anything. 
> 
> She is still an alien. 
> 
> She will never be normal.
> 
> And Clara can’t help but desperately wish that she could be.

Prologue

“Watch it, Kent!” comes an offended screech as Clara, overcome with sudden weakness, stumbles and nearly bowls over Mandy.

“Sorry,” Clara mumbles as she hurriedly backs away, getting as far away from Lana and her meteor rock necklace as she can without seeming like she is.

Suzanne eyes the shapeless hand-me-downs Clara is wearing with disgust before sneering at her. “Freak.”

“She’s not a freak,” Lana says firmly.

Mandy snorts. “You’re only saying that cause you think you owe that loser something. She’s the reason Emily is dead-”

“That’s not true!” Lana cries out in protest.

Suzanne and Mandy merely share an exasperated glance.

“Oh come on, you said it yourself, Emily drowned trying to save her-”

“And me,” Lana interjects, and her voice wavers. “They were both just trying to save me.”

Something that might be guilt flickers across Suzanne’s face. “Whatever. Come on, let’s go to the Beanery.”

Lana hesitates.

“Lana, you coming?”

Taking a deep breath, she determinedly follows, and doesn’t look back at Clara once.

Clara bites her lip and tries not to cry.

***

When Clara is 9 years old, she hits one growth spurt after another. Although she tries her best to hunch over and appear shorter, she still stands out like a sore thumb in all the class pictures, the gangly tall girl who towers over everyone else, including the teacher. By the time she turns 11 years old, she’s 5’10” and seemingly all arms and legs, and not even the clothes from the women’s section of Fordman’s will fit her.

It bothers Clara that she’s so much taller than everyone else, and her height and the hand-me-downs she’s forced to wear from her father certainly does nothing for her already pathetic social life. Boys won’t even stand next to her for fear of looking ridiculous and being teased. Being a part of a sports team might help, except her parents refuse to let her participate, as they’re concerned that with her strength and speed, she may inadvertently hurt someone. Her mother repeatedly reassures her that she won’t stand out for very long as the other kids will be growing up too, but her words of comfort don’t help much when they sneer at her and mock her.

And so, when Clara is outside doing her chores and along with a sudden headache she starts to see through things, she naturally freaks out. The last thing she wants is another strange and inexplicable power, another way she’s different from everyone else. Even as she hurriedly backs away, the image in front of her doesn’t change – she can still see the cow’s skeleton like she has some kind of x-ray vision. She closes her eyes and opens them again, but rather than returning to normal, she can now see the horrifying image of all the muscles of the cow’s body.

Realizing she can’t turn it off, Clara determinedly looks elsewhere. As she looks through the barn walls and towards the house, her gaze catches sight of a strange, egg-shaped metal object in the storm cellar. As abruptly as it had started it ends, and her vision returns to normal. Eager for any sort of distraction, Clara hurriedly makes her way into the storm cellar to investigate the oddity.

Turning the light on so she can see, she looks around and spots a large object underneath a tarp. When she pulls it off, her breath catches in her chest as she realizes just exactly what she’s seeing. So entranced is she in examining the pod, she misses her parents’ alarm at finding the storm cellar door open, and their dismayed realization upon seeing her with the ship.

“She’s too young, Jonathan,” Martha says, her eyes betraying her worry.

Jonathan tugs his wife close and kisses her head. “We don’t have a choice.”

“Mom! Dad!” Clara says excitedly when she spots them coming down the steps. “How did you build this? It’s so smooth!”

Martha exchanges an uncertain glance with Jonathan. “We didn’t build it, sweetheart. We found it.”

“Found it where? And why would you hide it in the storm cellar?”

Martha steps forward. “Honey, it’s time you were told the truth.” She reaches out and gently grasps Clara’s hands in her own. “Your biological parents… they… well, they weren’t exactly from around here,” she says falteringly.

As Clara gazes at them uncomprehendingly, Jonathan walks over to a shelf and lifts an object covered with cloth.

“This is from your biological parents.”

Clara has long since known she’s adopted, of course – living in a town with the name of Smallville means there really is no keeping any major secrets from your neighbors – but she knows nothing about her birth parents. To finally receive something that’s from them… Her hands shake as she brings the rectangular disk-like object closer. It’s made of metal, that much she can tell, but she has no idea what it is and the odd symbols engraved on top aren’t anything she recognizes.

“What does it say?” she asks, her voice wavering.

“I tried to decipher it for years, but it’s not written in any language known to man.”

Clara’s head jerks up. She looks at first her father then her mother, and their solemn gazes make it clear they aren’t joking. After looking down at the engraving once more, her gaze slowly drifts to the metal pod.

A metal pod that’s big enough to hold a baby.

Eyes wide, Clara begins to back away.

“Sweetheart, you landed with the meteors that day, and you found us-”

She cuts her off. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“We just wanted to protect you,” Martha answers pleadingly as she reaches for Clara’s hands.  

She jerks away. “Protect me from what? You should have told me!”

She can’t bring herself to look at the pod. “I really am a freak,” she says quietly, her voice thick with despair.

“Clara, no-”

Ignoring her mother’s pleas, she uses her super speed to get away – away from the cellar, her parents, and the alien ship that had brought her to Earth.

***

Clara leans against the railing of the Loeb Bridge, looking down at the murky waters of the Elbow River. From where she’s standing, she can barely see the spot where Emily Dinsmore had drowned when they were 10 years old.

Despite living only a mile away from each other, Clara and Lana have never been particularly close. For the longest time, Jonathan and Martha had kept Clara at home because she hadn’t been able to control her strength and speed. And once she’d learned control, the meteor rock-induced nausea and weakness she feels has meant the only time she can be around Lana without feeling ill and making a fool of herself is when Lana isn’t wearing her meteor rock necklace, and that’s infrequent enough that it would be a stretch to call them acquaintances.  

Perhaps Clara wouldn’t feel such a longing for the companionship of her nearest neighbor had she had any friends. Unfortunately, being home schooled until the second grade, her parents’ overprotectiveness – understandable now that she knows the truth – and her ungainly appearance have meant that she’s quickly been labeled a loser. The nicer students don’t befriend her for fear of also being labeled as an outcast, and no matter what they might say, the kids who don’t care about that are few and far between, and of those few, none of them have any interest in being Clara’s friend.

So when that fateful afternoon Lana had kindly invited her along to play by the riverbank with her and Emily, Clara couldn’t – and hadn’t wanted to – say no. Swallowing any discomfort, Clara had trailed after them as closely as she could without tripping over her own feet.

When a sudden rainstorm had caught them unawares and Lana had slipped and fallen into the river, Clara had jumped in right after her. Unfortunately, the feeling of weakness and nausea had only grown the closer she’d swam towards Lana, and in the end, Emily had had to jump in to save Lana. Although both Clara and Lana had managed to get to safety, Emily had drowned. Clara had dove back into the river to save her, but it had been too late.

Ever since then, Lana has refused to so much as even look at Clara. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t blame her, but the memory of Emily’s death is painful and Clara unfortunately is a constant reminder. Clara had certainly felt guilty enough that she hadn’t argued. But that sadly has meant that Clara, already considered an outcast, has become even more of a pariah, having been rejected by Lana Lang, considered by all to be the kindest and sweetest girl in Smallville.

An outcast… Clara wonders if somehow they can tell that she isn’t one of them, that she doesn’t belong here. If the reason she is so awkward and different is because she isn’t human. And then it hits her that if her pod had come down with the meteors, then all the devastation that had been wrought upon Smallville – including the deaths of Lana’s parents – are her fault.

She’d caused this.

“It’s all my fault,” she whispers. Clara can no longer stifle the sobs and tears trail down her cheeks.

It’s almost a relief when a familiar red truck pulls up.

Martha stands beside her, her shoulder-length red hair whipping about in the wind, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

“I’m sorry you had to find out the truth this way.”

Clara’s voice cracks as she says, “It’s all my fault. Lana’s parents died because of me.”

That gets Martha to move. “No, sweetheart, no,” she says soothingly, and draws an unresisting Clara into an embrace. “What happened was terrible, but it’s not your fault. You are not responsible for the meteor shower.”

“They came down with me-”

“You were only a toddler. You are not responsible for what happened to Smallville that day.” She pulls back and forces Clara to meet her eyes. “You were a blessing, a bright spot in the midst of such tragedy.”

Martha reaches up and wipes the tears from Clara’s cheeks. “Your father and I had wanted a child for so long. And then there you were. You found us, an answer to both of our dearest wishes. It didn’t and doesn’t matter where you come from – you are dear and precious to your father and I. A very blessing from the heavens.”

Despite the pretty words, Clara doesn’t feel any better. “I still feel responsible.”

“I know, sweetheart. But you can’t blame yourself for something you had no control over,” she says again.

“Then how do I make this feeling go away?” Clara asks plaintively.

Martha’s smile is sad. “You can’t. But that’s what makes you human.”

Clara feels the impact those words have as they go through her. Outwardly, there aren’t any obvious changes. She isn’t any less anxious or weary, and she still feels like the truth of her origins is a terrible burden, one that she knows her parents fear she’s much too young to handle – and she’s not sure if she can disagree. But Martha’s managed to subside a fear that Clara hadn’t even realized she’s been harboring.

Clara closes her eyes and breathes in deeply before at last pulling away.

“Let’s go home.”

***

In many ways, knowing of her alien origins make things easier. She no longer has to agonize over where her powers come from or of her weird reaction to the meteor rocks, although both of those things do still continue to confound her. On the other hand, the fear of being discovered has only heightened, since she now has far more to hide than just being a freak.

And _E.T._ has become her favorite movie.

As for the sudden appearance of her x-ray vision, her parents tell her she’s gaining these powers because she’s probably going through an alien version of puberty. Or so they think. It isn’t like there’s a manual – they’re all just guessing.

“I’m sure there’s some way to control it, sweetheart,” Martha says as reassuringly as she can after Clara’s x-ray vision flashes again and she accidentally sees her parents having sex.

She wishes she could just scrub her brain of that image.

“You guys, I can see through things! How do you control that?”

“You’ve got to practice, Clara. Your eyes have muscles, just like your legs. You broke a lot of things at first because you couldn’t control your strength and speed, but look at you now.”

Jonathan swallows what mortification he still feels and clears his throat to speak, though he’s unable to look Clara in the eyes. “Your mom’s right. Look, all you have to do is figure out a way to, uh, condition them so that you don’t get these random flashes.”

“That sounds great. Just how am I supposed to do that?” she retorts sarcastically, before sighing. “I just wish I could control this.”

After a few awkward moments of silence, Martha stumbles onto an idea. “What if you try focusing it? Like a telescope?”

Jonathan eagerly stands. “Here, you could start with something small.” Reaching into his pocket, he grasps an object and forms a fist around it. “Try to tell me what I have in my right hand.”

Clara looks down at the fist held out in front of her. “Your pocketknife.”

He opens it up with an astounded smile. “Well, would you look at that? It worked! You could see through my hand!”

He seems so genuinely enthusiastic about it that she feels bad bursting his bubble, but… “Actually, I didn’t. You just always carry your pocketknife in that pocket.”

At the chagrined look on Jonathan’s face, she and Martha burst out into giggles.

Eventually Clara learns that she can activate her x-ray vision by concentrating, which is a relief to all the Kents. And when weeks go by without her getting another power, believing that had been the last of it, Clara breathes a sigh of relief. Of course, because she’s jinxed herself, she then wakes up the next morning floating above her bed – only to find herself crashing back down when she fully wakes up, breaking her bedframe in the process.

“Mom, what’s happening to me?”

Martha sighs as she sits down on the couch beside her. “I don’t know, honey. As soon as you start breaking the law of gravity, we’re definitely in uncharted territory.”

Clara fidgets before saying quietly, “I just wish it would stop.”

Martha tucks the hair that’s fallen out of Clara’s ponytail behind her ear. “Sweetheart, I’m your mother. I’m supposed to have all the answers and it kills me that I don’t. But you have to have faith that we’ll figure this thing out together.”

“I do,” she insists. “But this is happening to me and I’m scared.”

Martha just tugs her in closer and gently kisses her forehead, and Clara can’t help but feel like she isn’t the only one who’s terrified.

After a beat, her mother remarks, “Guess you’ll have to get over your fear of heights.”

Clara lets out a strained laugh.

***

Although Clara knows her parents love her despite the fact that she is an alien, she can’t help but feel even more isolated than before. She is fundamentally different than everyone else around her, and although only she and her parents know the truth about her origins, it doesn’t change anything.

She is still an alien.

She will never be normal.

And Clara can’t help but desperately wish that she could be.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara meets Lex, a young man who is unlike anyone she's ever known, in a less than ideal circumstances. There's also a homecoming dance and the first of Smallville's array of mutants that Clara faces, as well as a realization that she might be the cause of all the freakiness in Smallville after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you enjoyed the prologue! A couple more things:  
> 1) In the pilot episode, Clark does CPR with ABC (airway, breathing, chest compression), but AHA has changed it to CAB (chest compression, airway, breathing), so I've made the change to reflect that.  
> 2) Since Clara is a girl, that means the famous scarecrow scene goes a different way. I hope you all like the spin I put on it.  
> 3) There's non-overt questions being asked by Lex to Clara about a possible sexual assault. Just to make it clear, Clara wasn't sexually assaulted, but I just wanted to give you guys warning just in case.  
> 4) I use the lines from the pilot episode rather liberally, but that will change as the fic goes on.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

As though the universe is trying to give Clara a break, a transfer student from Metropolis by the name of Chloe Sullivan comes roaring into her life. The spiky blonde is smart, opinionated, and not at all intimidated by her height or reputation, and for some reason Clara can’t determine, decides to pick her as her best friend. Clara is beyond grateful for her decision, and so despite her misgivings, joins the school newspaper, _The_ _Torch_ , at Chloe’s insistence.

Being best friends with Chloe means Pete Ross becomes her friend too. Despite being the shortest boy in the school, he’d never actively tried to avoid her and in fact had always been nice whenever they’ve come across each other. The disparities in their social standing had meant that had been the extent of their interactions, however. But thanks to his massive crush on Chloe, Pete decides to join the school paper, and they all inevitably end up hanging out together. To her happy surprise, Clara soon comes to count him as a close friend.

But while Chloe and Pete are great, they don’t know her secret. In fact, she’s terrified they’ll find out, not the least of which is because of Chloe’s Wall of Weird, her collection of stories that document every strange, bizarre, and unexplained event that’s happened in Smallville since the meteor shower. Although Clara largely dismisses the whole thing as hoaxes and tall tales, she can’t help but fear that she’ll end up in the center of it all one day. It’s definitely enough to give an alien nightmares. So despite knowing how unfair it is, Clara can’t help but keep them at an imperceptible distance.

Still, as weird and crazy the stories on the Wall of Weird are, however, they do give Clara an excellent idea. She too begins to search for bizarre incidents that have occurred, except her search isn’t limited to just Smallville. She wants to find out if there might be others like her out there, those who, if not aliens themselves, may possess powers and abilities similar to hers. She’s terrified that she’s the only freak in the world, especially because her list of powers seems to keep growing.

Ever since she’d realized the date listed on her birth certificate is a fake, she’d insisted they celebrate the date of her adoption instead, as it makes more sense than celebrating a random date her parents had selected. They’d been quite touched by her decision, and things had been going along swimmingly since. Except yesterday, when Clara had attempted to blow out the candles, she hadn’t just blown out the candles – her very breath had frozen the entire cake as well as the dinner table. And worst of all? It had been her mother’s red velvet cake, and she hadn’t been able to eat a single bite of it.

“Clara, you’re going to miss the bus!”

She looks up and her eyes widen as she sees the time.

“Coming, mom!”

She quickly closes the browser and begins to whirl around, gathering her things. Just before she leaves her room, she does a quick check in the mirror. She frowns at her ungainly appearance, wishing not for the first time that she could be as beautiful and delicate as Lana. Her brown hair is wavy rather than straight, and it tends to do whatever it wants no matter how much hair spray or gel she uses, which is why she usually keeps her hair in a simple ponytail. She also doesn’t wear any makeup because not only is she terrible at applying it, super speed ensures that whatever she wears doesn’t last for long. On top of that, her height means her clothes are from the men’s section of Fordman’s, being hand-me-downs from her father, which is beyond embarrassing. If only she could afford to go shopping at the larger, better-stocked stores in Granville or Metropolis, maybe she could pass as almost pretty.

“Clara!”

Her head snaps up and she zooms downstairs and out the door. Unfortunately it’s too late – the school bus is already leaving, and she can see Pete handing Chloe money, the latter undoubtedly having won a bet on her being late and missing the bus.

Rather than ask her parents to give her a ride, Clara decides to just cut through cornfields and super speed her way to school.

***

“So, anyone ask you to the dance?” Clara hears Pete say as nonchalantly as he can to Chloe as they get off the school bus.

“Not yet.”

“Hey, maybe you and I could go together. I mean, not as a date-date thing, more as a friend-friend thing.”

“Sure, that’ll be fun. And maybe you can help me convince Clara to join us.”

Clara hurries forward to interrupt them before Chloe can see Pete’s face fall. “Hi guys.”

Chloe turns around, looking perplexed. “Uh, didn’t you just -- weren’t you-”

She smiles innocently. “I took a shortcut.”

“Through what? A black hole?” Chloe says incredulously.

Pete puts his arm around Chloe’s shoulders and steers her towards the school. “Clara, you’ll have to excuse our intrepid reporter. Seems as though her weirdar is on DEFCON 5. She thought something was attacking the bus.”

Chloe huffs. “Okay, just because everyone else chooses to ignore the strange things that happen in this leafy little hamlet doesn’t mean that they don’t happen.”

Clara and Pete just exchange exasperated looks above the blonde’s head.

“Now, you know we’d love to join you and Scooby inside the Mystery Machine for another zany adventure, but I gotta hand in this permission slip before homeroom.”

As Pete is displaying the slip in question, Clara sees the notice announcing cheerleader tryouts.

Chloe’s eyes widen with amazement. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to try out for the football team!”

When she looks at Clara and sees what has her attention, she bursts out into giggles. “What is this, some sort of teen suicide pact? Clara for the pompom brigade and Pete for the jockstraps?”

Clara smiles tightly. “I’m not trying out.”

As much as she wants to be a cheerleader, to be liked and appear _normal_ , there is no way she’ll be able to get on the squad when Lana and her meteor rock necklace is also on the team.

“Well good!” Chloe says decidedly. “Honestly, Pete-”

He drags her away from the crowds before she can say anything else. Clara follows the duo to the side of the building where they’re mostly hidden from view.

“Ouch! Pete, what?” the blonde protests.

“I’m trying to avoid becoming this year’s scarecrow,” he says in a whisper, leaning in so that no one else can overhear.

“What are you talking about?” Chloe whispers back, before raising her voice and saying, “And why are we whispering?”

Pete sighs and rolls his eyes. “It’s a homecoming tradition. Every year before the big game, the football players select a freshman, take him to Riley Field, strip him down to his boxers before stringing him up like a scarecrow.”

Chloe looks horrified, Clara no less so. “Jesus, sounds like years of therapy waiting to happen.”

“Why do you think I’m trying out for the team? Figure they won’t choose one of their own.”

Clara throws Pete a supportive glance as they once again make their way towards the entrance. “Good luck.”

“Think I’ll need it?” he swaggers, but there’s genuine insecurity in his voice. Pete isn’t exactly tall, strong, or muscular, after all.

“You’ll be fine,” she tells him, only sort of lying.

Chloe rolls her eyes before turning to Clara.

“So what’s with all the books?” she asks, gesturing at the stack Clara is holding in her arms.

Pete glances at the titles. “Nietzsche? So what are you, man or superman?” he quips, before his brows furrow. “Or would that be woman or superwoman?”

Chloe snorts as Clara shrugs. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

Just then, Clara feels the familiar nausea and weakness overcoming her. She seemingly stumbles over nothing and falls, scattering her books everywhere.

As the other students stare and laugh and Clara turns red with humiliation, Chloe says under her breath to Pete, “I wonder what her problem is with Lana Lang. She can’t get within 5 feet of her without turning into a total freak show.”

Pete appears uncomfortable as he says, “You know about… Emily?”

Chloe frowns. “Yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

Looking like he regrets mentioning it in the first place, Pete shrugs. “They’ve avoided each other since then. It’s a painful reminder, I guess.”

When Lana, despite having seen the spaz attack, remains by Whitney’s side and refuses to even look at Clara, Chloe and Pete help her gather her books. By the time they finish, Lana and Whitney are gone.

“Come on, Clara, we’d better get to class,” Chloe says sympathetically as the school bell rings.

***

Like a glutton for punishment, Clara sits on the bleachers after school and watches the cheerleaders practice. She can’t help but feel envious and forlorn. Even the comical image of Pete wearing pads and helmet clearly meant for someone much bigger than him only distracts her briefly from her desperate desire to be normal and to belong.

After once more gazing wistfully at Lana cheerfully smiling at her friends, Clara leaves to return home.

She decides to take the long way back in the hopes that she can work off some of her mood. The last thing she wants to do is make her parents worry about her even more than they already do. She knows they’re freaked out enough over her newest ability, and she feels guilty that they’ll now have to use the money they don’t have to replace the kitchen table.

Naturally, her feet take her to Loeb Bridge. As Clara leans on the railing and broodily stares into the murky depths of the river, she hears squealing brakes and sliding tires. Alarmed, she turns around and sees a blue Porsche hit the metal coil that for some reason lies in the middle of the road. The driver loses control of the car and it heads straight for her.

Clara freezes. It feels like time has slowed but she can’t move, as though there is a meteor rock nearby zapping her speed. She sees the face of the driver through the windshield – a pale young man, completely bald with blue eyes that look panicked and are filled with sorrow at the realization that he’s going to take her with him.

He opens his mouth – to scream, perhaps, or to warn her – but it’s too late. The hood of the car slams into her at full speed and both she and the car break through the metal railing of the bridge and go flying off it.

Clara tumbles head over heels, plummeting after the car into the water. It takes her precious seconds to realize that she’s fine, that she’s not hurt. Clearly this is yet another power of hers, but unlike some of her other abilities, this one is damn useful since she’s certain that without it, she would now be dead.

She soon snaps out of it, realizing that she’s still in the water and so is the driver. She dives down further. The first thing she notices is that the driver is out cold and the car, thanks to the hole in the windshield, is full of water. Her first instinct is to pry the roof off the damn thing like peeling open a can of tuna. She quickly realizes, however, that if the car is full of water, then the pressure is equalized and she can just open the car door.

And so she does.

She quickly pulls the driver to safety. When she lays him down onto the riverbank, he isn’t breathing, and she can’t help but flash back to Emily and the way she’d desperately tried to bring her back.

Desperately tried, and failed.

But this time, Clara knows CPR. She’s taken first aid classes and knows exactly what to do.

She starts chest compressions and even x-rays his chest to make sure she’s not going too hard and breaking his ribs. Once she’s done 30 chest compressions, she gently tips his head back to open his airway and then pinches his nose and presses her mouth to his to give rescue breaths.

“Come on, come on!” she pleads as she resumes chest compressions. “Don’t die on me!”

She doesn’t know what she’ll do if this man dies too.

Thankfully, he turns his head and coughs up the river water, before opening his eyes with a wince. Clara doesn’t bother to hide her sigh of relief.

He’s alive. He’s _alive_. She didn’t fail this time.

Once he stops coughing, he flops back down and blinks. He stares at her with an expression she can’t quite place.

“I could’ve sworn I hit you.”

The urge to deny anything strange about her is instinctive, even if she isn’t comfortable with lying. Clara looks behind her at the mangled railing to give herself time to think up a response.

“If you did, I’d be dead.”

He has no reply to that.

There’s a cut on his cheek and he’s wet through. Although Clara doesn’t feel the chill, it’s October and she knows he must be freezing. She helps him sit up and wrings out her jacket as much as she can, before putting it around his shoulders. Since it’s a hand me down from her dad, it’s more than big enough for him.

He tries to protest, but she ignores it. Instead, she looks back up at the bridge.

“I’m going to get some help. Stay here,” she tells him firmly before she hurriedly runs back up to the bridge to flag for some assistance.

***

Clara could’ve easily made her own way home, but knowing it would look suspicious, she instead lets the State Troopers call her home and allows the EMTs to drape her with a red blanket.

She hopes her parents won’t be too alarmed by the call.

She should’ve known better.

“Clara!” Jonathan calls out, his voice panicked as he skids down to the riverbank. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, dad,” she reassures him, even as he frantically looks her over before pulling her into a tight hug. “I wasn’t in the accident.”

“Who’s the maniac that was driving that car?” he demands of the nearest State Trooper.

“That would be me,” the driver says. Despite being wet and also covered with a red blanket, he looks no less striking. He extends his hand. “Lex Luthor.”

From the way he looks as he says his name, she knows he’s expecting a reaction. After all, everyone knows of the Luthors, the rich billionaires of LuthorCorp who own or employ half the state. But she’s too relieved he’s not dead, that she’s managed to save him, to react.

Her father, on the other hand, sours even further and blatantly ignores the proffered hand.

“Dad,” she admonishes quietly at his rudeness. She takes the hand before Lex can drop it. “I’m Clara, and this is my dad, Jonathan Kent.”

“Thank you for saving my life, Clara. I’m incredibly grateful.”

She shrugs, feeling rather awkward. “I was just in the right place at the right time. I’m sure you would have done the same thing.”

His hand is cool in hers, and she automatically starts to rub his hand between her warm ones, trying to warm it up. It’s something she’s done a million different times for her mom and Chloe, since her hands are always warm. She only realizes what she’s doing when her dad makes an indignant noise and pulls her back, causing Lex’s hand to slip free from hers.

She’s beyond mortified and can’t make herself look up to see his reaction. She just about manages to garble out to the ground, “Sorry about that. Force of habit.”

Her father thankfully saves her from the awkward situation by putting his jacket around her shoulders and leading her away.

Lex turns to Jonathan. “You have quite an extraordinary daughter there, Mr. Kent. If there is any way I can repay you-”

Jonathan turns towards him. “Drive slower,” he says rather belligerently, before once again leading Clara up to his truck.

Despite still feeling embarrassed, she can’t just let that incivility be. Yes Lex was speeding, but the accident is only partially his fault – he would’ve been fine if it hadn’t been for that metal coil on the road. So she turns back around.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Mr. Luthor,” she says as sincerely as she can.

The look of surprise quickly morphs into a smile. “It’s Lex, please.”

She nods. “Lex.”

“She’s underage,” Jonathan bites out.

Clara is horrified. “Dad! What’s wrong with you? Lex is just being nice!”

Thankfully, the workers manage to dredge the car up from the bottom of the river just then, serving as a distraction from her humiliation. She winces as the water pours out of the hole in the windshield and the open driver’s side door. She shoots Lex a sympathetic – and apologetic – smile before turning back to where her dad is waiting none too patiently.

“Let’s go, dad.”

***

Jonathan isn’t pleased about her interactions with Lex, to say the least. Clara doesn’t understand what the big deal is, and when she tells her mother everything that had happened – except for having been hit by Lex’s car – Martha agrees that Jonathan had been excessively rude and unfair, and she makes Clara her favorite meal for dinner.

Naturally, Clara’s rescue of Lex is the hottest news in town. Several of her fellow students actually voluntarily approach her to ask her about it, and Chloe keeps trying to get her to give her an interview about the “incident” for an article in _The Torch_.

“It wasn’t a big deal, Chloe,” she insists. “I seriously just happened to be there when it happened. Anyone would’ve done the same thing.”

“I’m sure they would have,” Chloe says, her tone making it clear she doesn’t agree. “Still, saving the life of the infamous billionaire playboy Lex Luthor-”

Pete slams his locker shut hard enough that the loud bang causes the entire hallway to fall silent for a beat as they turn to stare at him before conversations slowly resume.

Chloe’s eyebrow rises in incredulity. “What’s your deal?”

Clara subtly shakes her head at Chloe before turning to Pete. “Lex isn’t his dad, Pete-”

He snorts. “Whatever. See you guys later.”

As Pete stalks off, Chloe stares at his back with a raised eyebrow before wordlessly turning to Clara. She pointedly stares at her until she gives in and explains.

“Years ago, Pete’s father and uncle sold their family company, Ross Creamed Corn, to Lionel Luthor, who, rather than revitalizing the company, turned it instead into a LuthorCorp fertilizer plant.”

When Chloe opens her mouth, Clara just sighs. “Don’t ask.”

And thankfully the bell rings just then, saving Clara from Chloe’s inquisition for at least the next hour.

***

Unwilling to sit on a school bus and subject herself to more stares and Chloe’s endless questions, Clara opts to slowly walk home. As she’s making her way up to the house, she sees a brand new bright blue convertible with a gigantic purple bow on the hood.

Spotting Martha climbing out of the tractor, Clara calls out, “Hey mom! Whose convertible is it?”

Martha’s smile is strained. “Yours,” she says dryly. “It’s a gift from Lex Luthor.”

Her jaw drops in shock. “What?”

Martha pulls a card out of her pocket and passes it to her. The front of the envelope has intertwined Ls embossed on it, which she can’t help but run her thumb over. It’s the fanciest card she’s ever seen, though she supposes having such monogrammed cards and envelopes at his disposal is nothing to a man of Lex’s wealth.

Clara opens the envelope and pulls out a purple card. She can’t help but smile as she reads it out loud. “ _Dear Clara. Drive safely. Always in your debt. A maniac in a Porsche_.”

Laughing, she turns back to her mother who is watching her speculatively.

“This is awesome. Where are the keys?”

“Your father has them.”

Clara winces. “Of course he does.” She sighs, knowing there’s no way he’d let her keep the car. She wonders if it’s worth arguing over.

Staring at the convertible, Clara can just imagine the looks of envy she’d get as she drives up to school in it the next day. She would be the first one in their class to have her own car. She could give rides to Chloe and Pete, and she’d even be able to go to Granville without having to wait for the family truck to be available. For the first time in her life, she would be just like a normal teenager.

Straightening her spine, she follows the sound of the wood chipper to around the far side of the barn. Jonathan spots her before she can even wave hello. He turns off the machine and pulls off his ear protectors and safety glasses.

“I know how much you want it, sweetheart. But you can’t keep it.”

As he walks past her, Clara follows. “Why? It’s not like I asked for a reward or was expecting one. But since he’s already bought me a car, what’s so wrong with keeping it?”

“You don’t want to owe the Luthors anything.” He tugs off his gloves, his abrupt motions making his agitation obvious. “Do you remember Mr. Bell? We used to go swimming on his property. How about Mr. Guy? He used to send us pumpkins every Halloween. Well, Lionel Luthor promised to cut them in on a deal. He sent them flashy gifts.” Jonathan twirls the car keys around his finger as though that’s proof. “Only once they sold him their property, he went back on his word. He had them evicted. The Luthors aren’t the altruistic type, Clara.”

“How can you judge Lex for what his father did?” she says indignantly.

Jonathan sighs. “That’s not what I’m doing, Clara. I just want to make sure you know where the money came from that bought that car.”

Clara shoots him a look filled with disbelief. “Yeah, right,” she says with as much sarcasm as she can muster. Considering his behavior towards Lex thus far, she highly doubts that’s all he’d been trying to say.

“I know you’re upset, Clara-”

She ignores him as she storms away.

***

The dinner that evening is tense, to say the least. Even as Jonathan acts as though nothing is wrong, Clara remains stubbornly silent, and Martha can only get monosyllabic answers from her.

As soon as she’s done eating, Clara heads up to the loft. Though she tries to seek peace by looking through her telescope at the stars, she finds herself having trouble sitting still, let alone enjoying the view of the night sky. Deciding she needs to get away for a while, she heads into the woods with a burst of speed.

Clara hasn’t been wandering around long when she hears a familiar voice.

“Who’s there?”

Surprised, she steps forward. “It’s me, Clara.”

“Clara?” Lana looks taken aback. “What are you doing creeping around the woods?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, and decides to walk away before she starts to feel ill.

“Clara, wait!” Lana heads towards her, and she braces for the nausea to hit. When she surprisingly feels fine even when Lana is a mere foot away, for a brief moment she wonders if this is yet another new ability. Just then, she sees that Lana isn’t wearing the meteor rock necklace.

“No wonder,” she mutters under her breath, and refuses to acknowledge the disappointment she feels.

Lana looks concerned. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here. Are you okay?”

Clara snorts. “I’m hanging out in a graveyard. Does this strike you as okay behavior?”

“Hey, I’m here too.”

She nods. “Good point. What’s your story?”

Lana bites her lip. “Can you keep a secret?”

Clara’s smile is bitter. “I’m the Fort Knox of secrets.”

Lana slowly nods. “I came out here to talk to my parents.” She turns away. “You must think I’m pretty weird. Here’s Lana, conversing with dead people.”

Clara swallows roughly and shakes her head. “I don’t think you’re weird, Lana.”

Lana smiles at her before gesturing at a tombstone. “Mom, dad, this is Clara.”

She awkwardly waves, and Lana laughs. This is the longest they’ve spoken in years, and it’s over the Langs’ grave. Clara thinks there’s some kind of tragic irony in that.

“Yeah, she is kind of shy,” Lana says to the gravestone, startling Clara from her morbid thoughts.

“How should I know?” she says after a beat, before turning to Clara. “Mom wants to know if you’re upset about a guy.”

Clara shakes and ducks her head.

“Dad wants to know if you’re upset about a girl.”

She laughs. “No.”

“He has a twisted sense of humor,” Lana confesses with a smile, before sighing. “Seriously Clara, why are you out here?”

Clara fidgets with the ends of her hair before looking away. “You ever feel like your life was supposed to be different?”

Lana slowly nods. “Sometimes I dream I’m at school, waiting for Nell to pick me up. But she doesn’t come, so my parents drive up. They’re not dead, they’re just really late. Then I get in their car and we drive back to my real life in Metropolis. That’s usually when I wake up. But for a minute, I’m totally happy, until I realize I’m still alone.”

Clara can’t speak for the longest moment, too choked up to say a word. But this isn’t about her, it’s about Lana. So she takes a deep breath and gathers herself together.

“What’s that, Mrs. Lang?”

Lana slowly looks over at her.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll tell her.” Clara turns and meets her dark eyes. “Your mom wants you to know that you’re never alone. That she’s always watching over you, no matter what.”

Lana stares at her in wonder.

“What’s that, Mr. Lang?” When Lana smiles, she says, “Your dad thinks you’re a shoe-in for the homecoming queen.”

Lana laughs at that. “Thanks, Clara.”

“They’re quite chatty, once you get them started.”

She turns back to the tombstone. “Bye Mr. and Mrs. Lang. It was great talking to you. Bye Lana.”

“Clara, wait.” Lana inhales deeply before sighing. “I’ve really been unfair to you since… Well, for a long time. And I’m sorry.”

Clara quickly shakes her head. “It’s okay. I get it. Emily was… she was your best friend, and I couldn’t save her.”

Lana’s eyes widen in dismay. “Saving her wasn’t your responsibility, Clara. We were just kids.” She sighs once again. “The truth is, the person I was most mad at was myself, but I took it out on you because it was easier. And that- that wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Clara, truly,” she confesses, before shooting her a tentative smile. “I know it might be too late, but I hope we can be friends again.”

Clara is too delighted at the prospect of a possible dream coming true to even think of holding a grudge or not forgiving Lana. Her answering smile is nearly blinding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

Beyond a few startled glances, hardly anyone says anything when Lana and Clara hang out together the next day. But then again, being the kind and friendly person that she is, Lana is known to befriend the outcasts and losers of Smallville High, and though it’s Clara Kent this time, most everyone just attributes it to her good nature.

Lana is trying to convince Clara to come to the homecoming dance when a fellow freshman, Russell Burton, comes up to them.

“Hey Clara, want to go to the homecoming dance with me?”

To say Clara is surprised would be an understatement. Not only is this the very first time she’s ever been asked out by anyone, but she doesn’t think she and Russell have exchanged a single word to each other before. Plus Russell is shorter than she is, and while she doesn’t care, she knows guys have a complex about that sort of thing.

Still, she can’t help but be flattered to even be asked, especially because she knows Russell has better options than her. He may not exactly be the most popular guy around, but he’s got a few friends and is cute enough that even several of the cheerleaders would’ve happily said yes to him.

When Lana discretely pokes her, Clara snaps out of it. “Uh, sure,” she finds herself saying.

“Great! I’ll meet you outside the gym before the dance, okay?”

Clara can’t do anything but nod, still too shocked to say anything.

As Lana happily chatters about how great the homecoming dance is going to be, Chloe hurries up to them.

“What did Russell want?” she demands.

“He asked her to go to the homecoming dance with him!” Lana happily tells her before Clara can even open her mouth.

“And what did you say?” Chloe asks impatiently.

“I said yes.”

Chloe veritably squeals. “Okay, we have to go shopping-”

Lana’s face lights up. “We can go to Metropolis, to the same store where I got my dress! They have tons of dresses there – we’ll be able to find one that fits you for sure!”

What little enthusiasm Clara has been feeling dies. There’s a reason why she wears hand-me-downs from her father, after all, and it isn’t because she likes wearing baggy and ill-fitting clothes. Although she has the strength and speed to easily do the work of all of their farmhands and save her parents money, the fact is it would be impossible for a normal human and his daughter to run the Kent Farm all by themselves. Even with her mother selling organic produce and her baked goods, they’re barely making ends meet. There is no way they’ll be able to afford a dress from a store in Metropolis.

Surprisingly, however, both of her parents fully support her shopping trip with Chloe and Lana, and Martha even offers to drive the three of them to Metropolis. Clara can’t help but think that a large part of it has to do with how guilty they feel for making her return the car, but she’s just too happy to finally be getting a pretty new dress that might actually fit her that she can’t say no.

As she drives over to the Luthor Mansion, Clara makes sure to savor the experience. The convertible handles and feels so much better than their old family truck, and she wishes not for the first time that she could keep the car.

She can see the mansion well before she’s on the private road. It’s huge and more like a medieval castle, and while it’s stately and beautiful, it’s also very clearly out of place in Lowell County. Lionel Luthor is obviously not much for subtlety.

When Clara gets to the gate, she realizes it’s locked and that no one’s around to let her in. She tries the buzzer again, but there’s no response. After making sure that nothing and no one is around to see her, she bends the bars until there’s enough room for her to wiggle through between them. Once she straightens them out again, she makes the long trek up to the mansion. Since the mansion is in the outskirts of Smallville in a heavily wooded area, Lex will be afforded absolute seclusion, and as it’s set far enough back from the road, there’ll be little chance of noise disturbing him.

She can’t help but think it’s a lonely kind of place.

Once Clara is at the front door, she rings the bell. When there’s no answer, she tries knocking a few times, with enough force that the door shakes in its frame, but there’s still no response. She almost wants to go back home with the car since she really did try and return it, but knowing how her father would react, she tries the doorknob. She’s surprised to find that the door is unlocked.

“Hello?” she calls out as she hesitantly steps over the threshold, but once again is only greeted with silence. She doesn’t want to wander around someone else’s home uninvited, but she can’t just leave the car keys somewhere and hope Lex finds it. Besides, he deserves an explanation for why she’s returning his generous gift.

When her second, “Hello?” merits no response, Clara switches to using her x-ray vision. Spotting two skeletons sparring with swords, she heads in their direction, passing one deserted hallway after another. Despite the sunlight streaming in through the windows and the ceiling lamps being lit, the mansion is still rather eerie, with no one around and everything still draped in white sheets.

When she turns at the next corner, she sees the fencing duo actually decked out in full body white outfits. She watches as the smaller of the two backs the other into the wall and score a hit.

“Enough!” a female voice calls out before turning away.

In frustration at the loss, the other opponent – Lex, presumably – throws his sword across the room, to right where Clara is standing. She looks on in shock as the sword embeds itself into the paneling right by her head.

“Clara?” Lex says as he takes off his mask. His face is a picture of surprise. “I didn’t see you.”

Even knowing the sword couldn’t have really hurt her – if the way she could handle being hit by a car with nary a bruise to show for it is any indication – she still can’t help but glance at it nervously as it shakes from where it’s embedded in the wall.

As Lex approaches to retrieve his sword, she explains, “Yeah. Sorry. I, uh, buzzed but no one answered. I wouldn’t have let myself in, but I wanted to. Um.”

“How’d you get through the gate?”

Clara steals a wary glance at the pointy end of the sword that seems a little too close to her as Lex pulls it free.

“I kinda squeezed through the bars,” she says, and quickly adds, “If this is a bad time-”

“Oh, no, no,” he says, walking back to the woman and tossing her his mask before placing the sword on the cloth covered table. “I think Hykia has sufficiently kicked my ass for the day.”

Clara looks around the room. The wood paneling is pretty, but the animal heads mounted on the walls seem really tacky. She’s never understood people’s desires to display a trophy of their kills, and it seems even more out of place here as she gets the feeling that Lex isn’t exactly an avid hunter.

“This is a…” She tries to find a nice compliment, and ends with, “Quite a place you got here.” She inwardly winces at her lameness.

As Lex walks past her, he shoots her a wry smile. “Yeah, it’s a great place if you’re dead and in the market for something to haunt.”

“Well, at least it’s roomy,” she points out as she trails after him. “You have plenty of floor space to work with.”

“It’s the Luthor ancestral home, or so my father claims. He had it shipped over from Scotland stone by stone.”

Clara shakes her head. “Rich people sure are nuts,” she mutters.

When Lex bursts out laughing, she realizes she’s said the words out loud. Looking horrified, she quickly says, “Oh my god, I am so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s totally true. Rich people are crazy, my father most of all.”

Not sure how to take that and hoping to move the conversation to safer waters, she says, “I remember trucks rolled through town for weeks but no one ever moved in.”

Lex stops where he’s part of the way up the stairs to the second floor and looks back at Clara. “My father had no intention of living here. He’s never even stepped through the front door.”

Clara’s brows furrow. “Then why’d he ship it over?”

“Because he could.”

At that simple statement, she can’t help but shake her head again. “Your father really is crazy.”

Lex grins at her, and he looks less like the rich and powerful heir of Lionel Luthor and new manager of Smallville Fertilizer Plant No. 3, and more like a mischievous young man. As they enter what looks like his personal gym, he shrugs out of his fencing jacket and grabs a fluffy white towel.

“How’s the new ride?”

“That’s why I’m here.” She doesn’t have to work to sound apologetic.

Lex tosses the jacket and places the towel around his neck. “What’s the matter? You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s not that. I can’t keep it.”

He turns around at that and approaches her. “Clara, you saved my life. I think it’s the least I can do.”

She ducks her head at the earnest words. “It’s really sweet of you, Lex.”

His eyes widen at being called sweet, and his lips twitch. He swallows his pithy response and instead takes a deep breath. “Your father doesn’t like me, does he?”

Clara looks away, trying to come up with something to say that won’t be rude or offensive.

“It’s okay,” he says, forestalling her. He runs a hand over his head, long fingers skimming over his smooth scalp in what looks like an absent, familiar gesture. “I’ve been bald since I was 9. I’m used to people judging me before they get to know me.”

That’s certainly something with which Clara is unfortunately more than familiar.

“It’s nothing personal,” she tells him as reassuringly as she can. “He’s just not crazy about your dad.”

“Figures the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?” He nods. “Understandable. What about you, Clara? Did you fall far from the tree?”

Clara looks away. “I wouldn’t know. I’m adopted.”

She fears she’s given the words more weight than she’d planned. She loves her parents and knows they love her – the fact that they’d adopted her when she’s an alien clearly proves that – but she’s always wondered about her biological parents, about why they’d given her away, and the questions have only grown louder since she’s learned the truth of her origins.

Roughly swallowing, she lifts the hand holding the keys and drops them into his palm. “I better go. Thanks for the car.”

“Clara,” Lex calls out before she can walk out the door. “Do you believe a man can fly?”

Brows furrowing, she quirks her lips. “Sure. In a plane.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about soaring through the clouds with nothing but air beneath you.”

Clara recalls her bouts of floating and can’t say anything in response.

“I flew. After the accident when my heart stopped. It was the most… exhilarating 2 minutes of my life.” Lex stares off into the distance. “I flew over Smallville, and for the first time, I didn’t see a dead end. I saw a new beginning.”

He turns to look at her and smiles. “Thanks to you, I have a second chance.”

She looks down, uncomfortable with such gratitude. She finally manages to say, “I’m glad you feel like you’re getting a fresh start, Lex.”

When she finally looks up, his gaze is intense as he stares into her eyes. “We have a future, Clara. And I don’t want anything to stand in the way of our friendship.”

She doesn’t quite know what to say to that. It seems ludicrous that a sophisticated billionaire wants to be her friend, especially after such a short, if memorable, encounter, but she also can’t deny that she feels drawn to Lex in a way that she hasn’t ever felt before with anyone else. She knows it’s not an infatuation – even if she thinks Lex looks striking and has charisma for days, she’s nursed attractions before and knows what they feel like. Her short-lived crush on Whitney had felt nothing like this, and actually rather pales in comparison.

Clara thinks maybe it’s because Lex wears his differences on the outside with such pride and carelessness that she envies.

Shooting him an awkward smile, she tells him, “See you around, Lex,” before she leaves.

***

If she’d thought saving Lex Luthor would be the most interesting event of her week, she’s quickly proven wrong.

“His name is Jeremy Creek,” Chloe tells her as soon as she enters the _Torch_ office. She points to the high school yearbook photo of him. “This is a picture of him 12 years ago. And this,” she says, gesturing at the computer screen where there’s a photo of the same guy looking rather disheveled, “Is one I took 4 hours ago outside the auto repair shop where the third former jock this week was found in a coma.”

“That’s impossible,” Clara points out. “He’d be like 26 today. Must be a kid who looks like him.”

“My money was on the evil twin theory til we checked missing persons,” Pete says, passing Clara the report.

“Jeremy disappeared from the state infirmary a few days ago where he’d been in a coma for 12 years. They say he suffered from massive electrolyte imbalance,” Chloe explains.

“That’s why he hasn’t aged a day,” Pete chimes in.

Clara looks at them skeptically. “So you’re telling me he just woke up 12 years later? Just like that?”

“Well no, there was a huge electrical storm. The hospital’s generator went down, and when it came back on, Jeremy was gone.”

Pete shrugs. “My guess is that the electricity must’ve charged him up like a Duracell.”

“But why is he back in Smallville putting former jocks into comas? You said Frank’s the third one this week, right?”

“Because 12 years ago, they chose Jeremy Creek as the scarecrow,” he explains.

Chloe hands Clara a newspaper clipping.

“ _Comatose boy found in field, 20 yards from meteor strike_ ,” Clara reads out loud.

“The exposure to the blast must’ve done something to his body.”

Clara looks down, feeling a surge of guilt. “I have to go,” she says and rushes out, leaving Chloe and Pete to stare after her in confusion.

Before she can make her escape, however, she feels the unfortunately familiar nausea and dizziness overtake her. She looks around for Lana but doesn’t see her.

“You okay?” Whitney asks, seeing her hunched over.

She tries to smile reassuringly, but it mustn’t be enough since he comes closer. “Come on, you should sit down before you fall down.”

Being near him is only making her feel worse, and she realizes Whitney must have Lana’s necklace. Unfortunately, she doesn’t exactly have the strength to push him away. Thankfully the door to an empty classroom by them is open, and once Whitney helps her sit in a chair, he stands back far enough away that she doesn’t feel as ill.

Just as she’s about to reassure him that she’s okay, she hears her name.

“Kent? You asked Kent to the dance?” The unfamiliar voice sounds aghast, and the sheer incredulity in the words makes Clara wince.

“Relax, man. I only did it so I won’t be the scarecrow. I already asked Megan to go with me – I’m just going to pretend to go with Kent and then ditch her at the dance.”

Clara pales as the first speaker laughs.

“That’s cold. But why Kent? How’s that going to help you from becoming the scarecrow?”

“Didn’t you see her hanging out with Lana? No way Fordman will pick me if he thinks I’m going to the homecoming dance with the friend of his girlfriend.”

“Nicely done,” he congratulates Russell.

Whitney growls and he looks like he’s about to head out there and beat them both. Clara reaches forward and grabs onto the sleeve of his letterman jacket, even as it makes her feel even sicker.

“Don’t, okay? Not on my account. Besides, don’t you have a game to win soon?”

He looks at his watch and reluctantly nods.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Whitney hesitates.

His concern is touching, and Clara does her best to smile at him. “Thanks Whitney, but I’ll be okay.”  

He stops before he leaves, and turns back around to face her. “Forget Russell, he’s an ass. You should still come tonight and have a good time with all your friends. If you do, save me a dance, okay?” He even winks at her for good measure before he heads out the door.

Realizing she’s staring after him rather wistfully, Clara shakes her head. She can’t afford to rekindle her crush. Yes he’s good-looking and nice, much nicer than she’d previously thought, but he’s with Lana. Not to mention, he would have absolutely no interest in her even if he were available.

She sighs dejectedly. She really should’ve known better. Russell, just like every other guy, had never once shown any interest in her before. Of course he only asked her to the homecoming dance because he had to, not because he liked her.

Clara thunks her head against the desk before wincing when she feels it crumble beneath her forehead. Thankfully, the dent is relatively minor. She tries to reassure herself that the dent to her pride is the same.

She can’t quite make herself believe that.    

***

With her parents gone to watch the homecoming game, Clara is able to cry in her room in peace. She knows she’s only letting Russell win by feeling sorry for herself, but she’s been looking forward to finally being a normal teenager for once and look pretty as she dances the night away.

It’s beyond devastating to know that it’s all crumbling around her.

By the time her parents return, she’s been able to get herself under control. And thanks to her freaky alien body, there’s no sign that she’s spent the better part of the afternoon bawling her eyes out.

“What time is Russell coming by to pick you up?” Jonathan asks, grinning. “Have to make sure he’s going to treat my little girl right.”

“Jonathan,” Martha says warningly, though the smile that curves her lips makes it clear she doesn’t meant it.

“Your mother insisted we stop in town and stock up on film,” he adds with a wink. “I’ll make sure she limits herself to only one roll so you’ll have plenty of time to make it to the dance.”

They look so happy for her that she can’t bear to shatter the illusion.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” she reassures them with as bright a smile as she can manage. “I’m just happy that I finally get to have a normal teenager experience, that’s all.”

“Oh honey,” Martha says, and gives her a quick hug.

“And he’s not coming to pick me up – I told him to meet me at the dance. I didn’t want him to be grilled by you,” she says as lightly as possible.

Jonathan mockingly scowls and teases her for ruining his fun.

Citing the need to shower and get ready, Clara makes her escape before she can give herself away. She leans against her closed bedroom door and gently thunks her head against it before sighing.

“What am I gonna do?”

***

Clara lets her mother apply some makeup and style her hair into a nice chignon for the occasion. After she puts on her brand new blue dress, she gives a twirl in front of her parents.

“So what do you think?”

Martha’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh sweetheart, you look stunning,” she tells her with tears in her eyes.

Jonathan clears his throat. “My little girl is growing up. You’ll be the prettiest girl at the dance.”

Clara looks at herself in the mirror. For the first time, she thinks she actually does look pretty. Her hair is pulled back into an elegant up-do except for a few artful tendrils, which nicely frame her face. She’s barely wearing any makeup yet her eyes seem so much bigger and bluer, somehow. And she’s actually wearing something that fits and compliments her frame. To spare her dad’s sensibilities – and for her own comfort – her dress has a relatively high neckline, but because it fits her so well, the figure she’d hidden away beneath all the flannel is evident. The skirt is unfortunately not voluminous, but at least the slit in the leg allows her to move freely.

As she smiles at her reflection, she almost thinks the night won’t be so bad.

After more than a few photos are taken, her parents drop her off at the school. For a few minutes, Clara contemplates not going in. She can walk around the outskirts of Smallville instead and save herself the humiliation of being publically ditched by Russell. It isn’t as though anyone besides Chloe and Pete will notice she’s not at the homecoming dance, and she knows her parents won’t suspect anything as long as she returns home at the right hour. But she can’t help but picture Whitney’s wink, can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to dance in his arms. And so she takes a deep breath and enters.

There are more than a few double takes when the other students spot Clara, but as expected, she doesn’t get asked to dance. Despite not wearing heels, she’s still taller than most of the male students, and the nicer ones are too intimidated or fearful of being made fun of to ask her. She knows she can approach Chloe and Pete, but she doesn’t want to be the third wheel and ruin their night.

She finds herself leaning against the wall, watching as everyone dances and laughs and generally has a great time. She keeps a discrete eye on Whitney, hoping he’ll notice her and ask her to dance. But when all she gets are looks of pity and catty sneers from the other students, Clara can no longer bear the humiliation and decides to leave. Just as she’s turning around, Whitney sees her, and with a quick word to Lana, he heads her way.

“Hey Clara!”

She can feel her face flush. She’s trying to come up with something witty and cool to say when there’s a loud feedback. They all turn to look at the makeshift stage, and Clara realizes with a sinking feeling in her gut that they’re about to crown the homecoming king and queen.

“Sorry Clara. Another time, yeah?” Whitney says before hurrying back to Lana’s side.

Mortified and crushed, Clara leaves. As she nears the doors, she hears Megan complaining to her friend.

“I can’t believe Russell ditched me without a single word!” she spits out, seething with anger. “See if I give that spineless worm another chance!”

Clara realizes just then that she hasn’t seen Russell all night. If he’s not with Megan or at the dance, then…  

As soon as she’s out of sight, she speeds over to Riley Field. As she’d thought, she finds Russell tied to a stake, naked except for his boxers.

Russell looks stunned to see her, before his expression morphs into one of guilt. Though he doesn’t ask her to help him get down, she unties the ropes anyway, because as much as she wishes for him to get his just desserts, he doesn’t deserve to be left out here like this.

She doesn’t say a word to him though. She can’t. Everything she wants to say will only make her more vulnerable.

“It never changes,” comes a voice to her left.

She sees a sickly looking teen in a sweatshirt. “You- you’re Jeremy,” she stutters.

“I thought if I punished them it would stop. But it never stops.”

When he starts to walk away, she hurriedly finishes untying the ropes.

“Wait, where are you going?” she calls out after him, even as she helps Russell get down.

“Homecoming dance. I never made it to mine.”

Seeing that Russell has his clothes nearby, she leaves him to get dressed and instead chases after Jeremy.

She finally catches sight of him as he’s opening up the school’s sprinkler system. “Jeremy, you need to stop this.”

He’s clearly surprised at her sudden appearance. “I don’t know how you got here, but you should’ve stayed away.”

“I won’t let you hurt my friends,” she warns him.

He snorts. “Those people in there aren’t your friends!” His smile is eerie and Clara knows without a doubt that he’s out of his mind. “The sprinklers will get them nice and wet, then I’ll handle the rest.”

“They never did anything to you,” she insists.

“I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for him, and for you, and for all the others like us.”

Clara shakes her head. “What happened to you… It was my fault. I can understand your pain-”

“I’m not in pain! I have a gift, and a purpose, and a destiny!”

Jeremy turns back around but Clara uses her speed to get in front of him again.

“So do I.”

He looks startled, but he determinedly reaches out and attempts to electrocute her. Shocked at the feel of electricity running through her, she flings him away from her and he crashes onto a nearby parked truck. Breathing heavily, Jeremy gets back up and glares at her furiously.

“Give it up, Jeremy.”

In response, he touches the hood of the truck, and the electricity from his hand starts the engine. He gets in and rams the truck into Clara.

“What am I, a crash test dummy?” she mutters to herself as she braces her hands against the hood of the car.

Jeremy attempts to shake her off, but when she still clings on, he decides to smash her through the wall. Unfortunately for him, the wall he picks has an emergency water main attached to it, and when she and the car crash through the wall, the pipe bursts and starts leaking water into the truck.

He attempts to get out, but the driver’s side door is butted up against the intact section of the wall, and he can’t open the door. Before Clara can help, electricity runs through the truck and he electrocutes himself.

Clara pulls the truck forward until the door is clear, and opens it. There’s electricity running all along Jeremy’s body, but it quickly dissipates. His eyes open and he looks up at her in confusion.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Clara, and you’re in Smallville.”

Jeremy looks stunned and weak. Vulnerable. “I want to go home,” he says plaintively.

She says as kindly as she can, “Of course. I’ll make sure you get home.”

***

After it’s all over, Clara peeks into the gym. Clearly no one’s heard anything since they’re all still dancing and having a great time. In the middle of everyone are Lana and Whitney, with crowns on their heads and swaying beautifully together. Clara looks down at herself and she can see that her dress is no longer pristine, caked with dirt and dust and even torn in some places. She stares enviously at Lana in her pink strapless voluminous skirt dress, looking like a perfect princess. As Whitney leans down to kiss her, Clara leaves.

Unwilling to brave questions about why she’s back so early – or explain about Jeremy and her fight with him – she decides to take the long way home.

Hearing a car approaching from behind her, Clara stops to let it pass. Except it pulls over, and she raises her hand to shield her eyes from the headlights.

“Clara? What are you doing, walking alone at this time of the night?”

“Lex!”

He stares at her, and she winces at the ridiculous picture she must make. No doubt that on top of her mangled dress, her hair is an unruly mess and her makeup is completely smudged.

“What happened? Shouldn’t you be at the homecoming dance?”

Clara shoots him a brittle smile. “Decided to leave early.”

“Did something happen?” Lex’s voice is careful. “Did someone do this to you?”

For a moment, she wonders how Lex knows of Jeremy, before she realizes just what he’s thinking. “Oh no! No, I’m fine!”

Seeing his concerned expression, she assures him, “Really, nothing like that happened, Lex.”  

Lex nods slowly, but he doesn’t look entirely assuaged. Clara sighs before admitting, “A guy who asked me to the dance stood me up. He never intended to go with me and was just playing a cruel joke. I just had a klutz attack while running away, that’s all.”

“What’s his name?”

Clara’s lips twitch. “Don’t worry, he’s already suffered enough.”

“I doubt that’s possible,” he says gravely. “Even so, you should have gotten your revenge by having a great time and rubbing it in his face.”

She sighs. “Fat chance of that happening when no one asks you to dance.”

Lex’s eyebrow quirks up in surprise. “Well, the boys of Smallville High must be blind.”

She scoffs in disbelief.

He tilts his head and looks at her for a beat, before nodding. He turns on the radio in his car, and changes stations until he finds one that’s playing a slow ballad.

“May I have this dance?”

Clara’s eyes widen in surprise. “What?”

Lex extends his hand. “A dance. It would be my pleasure.”

“I’m a mess. I’m going to get your undoubtedly expensive clothes dirty,” she warns him, even as a flare of hope rises in her chest.

He only smiles. “You’re beautiful.”

She knows he’s just being kind – there’s no way she looks even passable in her current state – but realizing that he’s serious about wanting to dance with her, she tentatively places her hand in his. He pulls her in close and they slowly sway to the music.

It’s the first time she’s danced with anyone – since dances with her father don’t count – and she can’t help but blush. She thinks no one’s ever had as romantic a first dance as hers, and she desperately hopes she doesn’t step on Lex’s toes and ruin it.

“I hope this helps make up for tonight,” he says softly.

Clara looks up. He’s taller than her, one of the few people who are, and his eyes are kind.

“Thank you, Lex,” she whispers.

And they continue to sway.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara must wrestle with her crush on two different people, even as she battles yet another mutant, this time a classmate. She also makes an important discovery about the meteor rocks and their effects on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your reviews and kudos! There's just a couple of things I wanted to mention:  
> 1) The main pairing of the story is Clara/Lex, but they won't actually be getting together for awhile. Sorry if you were hoping for that. Yes they'll get closer and be more flirtatious, but they won't *date* until she's at least the legal age of consent.  
> 2) Clara's feelings for Lex is very superficial here, nothing more than just a crush at this point. He's a sophisticated, striking man who gave her a romantic first dance, turning her night from something terrible to something sweet. This isn't a love at first sight kind of story, sorry. It won't be until their friendship further develops - and she grows up - that her feelings will deepen into something of more substance.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Two

Clara is flying over Smallville, luxuriating in the feeling of freedom as she looks down from above. Her fear of heights is absent, allowing her to just enjoy the wind in her hair as she soars above the clouds. Suddenly, she sees the Luthor Mansion just up ahead, and there’s a window that’s been left open for her. She flies through it and she finds herself in a bedroom – specifically, Lex’s bedroom. Seeing him sleeping on the bed, she floats over. She slowly drifts down until she’s floating mere inches above him.

Lex opens his eyes and his lips quirk into a smile when he sees her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, before he pulls her down. Just as his lips are about to touch hers--

“Clara!” Martha calls from downstairs, waking her up and causing her to crash down onto the bed. Again. “Clara, we’re leaving for the farmer’s market in 15 minutes and you haven’t done your chores yet!”

Clara covers her face with her pillow and groans.

***

As Clara helps her parents set up their booth in the farmer’s market, she tries desperately to not think about the slow dance she’d enjoyed with Lex last night or her dream this morning. She knows he has absolutely zero interest in her – why would he, when he dates supermodels and actresses and other gorgeous women as far away from a bumbling teenager as one can get?

“He was just trying to be nice,” she reminds herself under her breath as she picks up the sign – Kent Organic Produce. After making sure no one is watching, she puts it up by pushing the nail through the post with her thumb.

As she’s waiting for her parents, she feels the familiar stirrings of nausea. When she looks up, Lana and Whitney are approaching, Lana once more wearing her necklace.

“Clara, I didn’t see Russell at the dance last night. Was everything okay?”

“Oh, he was…” she shoots Whitney a loaded look. “A little tied up.” She clears her throat. “And I wasn’t feeling too well.”

Clearly she must not look that great since Lana readily believes her. “Hope you feel better soon.”

“I’m sorry we didn't get to dance together,” Whitney says, his expression clearly betraying his discomfort.

Thankfully her parents return just then, allowing Clara to subtly back away from Lana. Jonathan goes directly over to Whitney when he sees him.

“Congratulations Whitney. That was one heck of a game. I haven’t seen an offense that good since I played.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kent,” Whitney says with a proud smile.

Eager to get away from the meteor rock, Clara tells her parents, “I’m going to get the rest of the boxes out of the truck.”

She’s pulling out said boxes one at a time – and making sure it looks like it takes her a lot of effort to do so – when she sees Whitney and Russell having what looks like an intense conversation. Neither of them seems happy, and the topic of conversation is made clear when Whitney points at her. To Clara’s surprise, Russell reluctantly heads her way.  

Rubbing the back of his neck, Russell mumbles, “Look, about last night… I wanted to thank you. You had every reason to just leave me hanging there, but you didn’t.”

Clara doesn’t bother to reply.

“I know it’s a shitty excuse, but I just wanted to not be the scarecrow, you know? It didn’t matter to me that I’d be hurting you.” Russell exhales sharply, then rushes out, “I’m sorry. And thanks for helping me when I certainly didn’t deserve it. You’re a far better person than I am. I owe you one, okay?”

Russell nearly flees when he finishes, and Whitney looks over at her as though to make sure she’s okay. Clara blushes at the way he’s being protective of her.

“I suppose I can’t knock your taste,” Lex says as he comes up to stand beside her. Clara quickly turns away from Whitney, though staring at Lex isn’t much better. He’s in a suit without a tie, and that’s definitely a look she can get behind. “Though a quarterback? Kind of clichéd for you, no?”

“It’s not like that.”

The look Lex shoots her makes it clear he doesn’t believe her. “So was the guy fleeing like the very hounds of hell were chasing after him the asshole who stood you up?”

She sighs. “He apologized. Anyway, I just want to forget it ever happened.”

“Hey Clara, what’s the hold up?” Jonathan calls out as he approaches.

“Mr. Kent, it’s good to see you.” Lex offers his hand, and this time, Jonathan takes it.

“Lex.” His greeting could almost be considered friendly. Almost. He turns back to Clara before pulling the heaviest boxes over and lifting them. “Come on, we’ve got to finish up.”

“Okay dad,” she says, and he watches them for a beat before walking away.

“At least I got a handshake this time,” Lex remarks.

Clara smiles before catching herself. Looking for a distraction, she picks up a red apple and hands it to him.

“Here, have an apple,” she says, before hefting the last box and following after Jonathan.

Lex stares after her for a beat before taking a bite of the apple.

***

The farmer’s market is a longstanding tradition in Smallville, and nearly the entire town turns up for it. They even occasionally get visitors from out of town, which can be exciting.

This time, the only new face is Lex, and he does a slow and thorough circuit of all the booths. Clara doubts there’s anything of interest to Lex – despite her hometown pride, she knows none of the wares the shopkeepers of Smallville are selling have the quality and sophistication a man like him no doubt prefers. Still, he appears to be buying a few things here and there.  

Their stand is his last stop, and Clara can’t help but grin at him when he approaches. “Hey Lex.”

He returns her smile with his own before turning to Jonathan. “Mr. Kent. And this must be Mrs. Kent. I’m Lex Luthor. It’s great to meet you.”

Martha gives him her polite, public smile. “Hello Lex.”

“I would like to place an order.”

“You haven’t even looked at our produce,” Jonathan says with a frown.

“Actually, Clara offered me an apple earlier, and it was delicious.”

“Well, thank you, Lex,” Martha replies, and her smile becomes more genuine and pleased. “So apples then? How many would you like?”

“I’ll take everything, actually, not just the apples.”

Martha gapes in surprise. “That’s quite generous.”

He shoots her a small smirk. “On the contrary, I’ll need all the produce I can get. I have a cook who’s intent on feeding me, and a full complement of staff who live on site. In fact, I should probably make this a standing order.”

Jonathan frowns as he leans forward rather aggressively. “Actually, Lex, we do have other customers-”

“Are you sure you’d rather not try our produce first?” Martha interjects. “It is a lot, Lex.”

“If they’re as good as your apples, then I know I am getting an excellent deal.”

Jonathan once again opens his mouth, but Martha steps on his foot and he closes it with a snap. “Well, thank you, Lex. Would you like it delivered to the mansion?”

“Yes please. Thank you, Mrs. Kent, Mr. Kent. And see you around, Clara.”

With a nod, Lex leaves the farmer’s market.

“Well,” Martha says, her eyes wide.

“I can’t believe you were about to say no to Lex, dad. What’s your problem? This is great!” Smiling happily, Clara hurriedly starts to pack up to leave.    

Jonathan only scowls.

For the first time, the Kents are the earliest ones to leave the farmer’s market. A few puzzling glances are thrown their way, but word quickly spreads of their good fortune, and most others offer them sincere congratulations, though a few frown in jealousy.

As they’re driving home, Clara sighs at the look on her father’s face.

“This is a good thing, dad,” she reminds him again.

He grimaces, clearly displeased with the whole thing.

She scowls. “I don’t get why you don’t like Lex. He hasn’t done anything. He’s friendly and respectful, and his-”

“Oh my god, Jonathan!” Martha breathes out, having spotted a truck that’s been flipped on its side.

Clara doesn’t even wait for the car to stop before she runs towards the truck, which she recognizes as Whitney’s. Jonathan grabs a fire extinguisher from the back when he sees that the truck has caught on fire.

“Whitney!” Clara calls out, but he’s unconscious. She wastes no time pulling him out.

“Clara!” Jonathan yells in warning, but it’s too late. The truck explodes and flames engulf Clara.

“Clara! _Clara_! _CLARA_!”

Once the smoke clears, to the Kents’ immense relief, they can see that both Clara and Whitney are alive and okay. Clara’s curled around Whitney, clearly having shielded him with her body, but she doesn’t appear to be harmed in any way. The only evidence that they’d been engulfed in an inferno mere seconds earlier is the fact that the back of Clara’s jacket is beyond saving.

The Kents run towards them and when Martha throws her arms around Clara in sheer relief and joy, her jacket sleeve catches fire where her arm touches Clara’s back.

“Martha!” Jonathan cries out in alarm.

“Mom!” Clara echoes.

She pulls back and quickly removes her jacket before tossing it far away. Jonathan tugs up her sleeves and thoroughly examines her arm, but since she’s wearing several layers, she’s fine.

Even as Clara sighs with relief, Jonathan and Martha exchange worried glances with each other.

***

The entire ride home, Martha keeps a tight hold of Clara’s hand. Only when Clara goes to shower to remove the stench of smoke does she let go.

By the time Clara gets dressed and comes back downstairs, Jonathan is on the phone and Martha is busy baking in the kitchen.

“Whitney’s gonna be all right. He’s got a couple of cuts and bruises but nothing serious,” Jonathan tells them once he hangs up the phone.

“Does he remember anything?” Clara asks, worrying her lip.

He shakes his head. “No. Just that something smashed his truck and he woke up in the ambulance.”

Clara stills Martha’s hands before she can start to prepare another batch of piecrusts. “I’m sorry I freaked you guys out.”

“Honey, you have nothing to be sorry for. We’re just so glad you’re all right. Yes we’re worried and concerned, but we’re your parents. Worrying about you is in our job description.” Martha pulls back and looks into Clara’s eyes. “Your father and I are so proud of you.”

“Thanks mom, dad.”

“C’mere,” Jonathan says gruffly before he draws them both into a tight hug.

***

“Knock knock,” Lex says as he enters the quarterback’s hospital room with flowers and a “Get Well Soon” balloon. “Lex Luthor. Is this a bad time?”

Eyes wide with surprise, Whitney hurriedly sits up. “No, no, of course not, Mr. Luthor. I’m Whitney, Whitney Fordman, but you probably already know that – I mean, you would have to, to find my room-” He clears his throat, putting an end to the nervous babbling. “So what brings you here? I mean, not that I’m not glad to meet you-”

“Nell’s a friend and she asked me to drop these off for her,” Lex says, before carelessly placing them on a rolling table. “Plus I wanted to meet the other person saved by Clara Kent.”

Whitney nods. “I’m lucky Clara was there.”

“I know the feeling,” Lex says self deprecatingly. “Must make you wonder if you’re with the right girl. One cheers, the other saves lives.”

Whitney frowns. Despite his desire to not piss off the owner of the Metropolis Sharks, he can’t let that stand. “Lana’s more than just a cheerleader. And for someone who just moved into town, you’re certainly free with your opinion on matters that don’t concern you.”

Lex shrugs. “Thought you just seemed more interesting than that. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re happy being just a jock dating a cheerleader.”  

After a pause, Lex shoots him a smirk. “Hope you feel better soon.”

With that, he leaves the hospital and a confused Whitney behind.

***

Although delivering produce orders is one of Clara’s responsibilities, Jonathan insists he take the order to the Luthor Mansion himself. Martha thankfully vetoes the suggestion, however, and so Clara happily makes her way there.

This time, the mansion is fully staffed. They open the gate for her and are waiting when she drives up. As she hands over the produce, Mrs. Palmer gives her a check before her husband leads her to a room to wait for Lex.

The clear centerpiece of the room is a model of an ancient city, which even includes tiny soldiers, horses, and ships. The details on all the pieces are exquisite, and although Clara has never been one for dolls – she’s always preferred stuffed animals as they are less likely to break and easier to fix than plastic – she’s always wanted Legos to play with, except they’d been too expensive.   She can’t help but feel envious of a young Lex who’d undoubtedly gotten to play with this huge toy set. She wants to pick up the models and examine them closely, but she knows better than to touch anything lest she break it.

“Save any lives on the way over?” Lex quips as he leans against the doorjamb. “Keep it up and you could make a career out of it.”

Clara can’t help the embarrassed – and flattered – smile that curls her lips at that. “I was just dropping off your produce. Sorry my dad tried to give you a hard time.”

Lex smirks. “Ah, if push came to shove, I would have arm-wrestled him for it.”

She laughs, and she has a feeling it’s a little too loud. She clears her throat. “Anyway, are you planning an invasion?”

He looks down at the model. “My father gave this to me when I was 9.”

“It’s a cool gift,” she says admiringly.

“It wasn’t a gift. It was a strategy tool.”

When Clara looks at him in confusion, he explains, “My father equates business with war.”

Before Clara can react to that, he gestures at the model. “This is the battle of Troy. It started because two people were in love with the same person. Sound familiar?”

She sighs. “I’m not in love with Whitney. Besides, if I were in a war with Lana, she’s pretty much won since they’re already in a relationship.”

“You lost one battle, Clara, that’s all. Besides, you pulled him out of that truck and saved his life. That can create some powerful ties – and I speak from personal experience.”

Clara swallows and forces herself to ignore that. She’s only hearing what she wants to hear – she knows he only means it as the reason for the existence of their friendship. Once she thinks she can speak without giving anything away, she makes herself meet his gaze.

“Lex, I promise you, I’m not pining for Whitney. He’s the captain of the football team and the whole town treats him like a god, yet he was still trying to look out for me, a nobody. So I was just appreciative, that’s all.”

“You’re not a nobody, Clara,” Lex tells her. The sincerity in his tone makes her blush, and she looks away.

“Anyway, if you change your mind, I’ve got your Trojan horse.” He pulls out an envelope from his jacket pocket. “My family owns the Metropolis Sharks and I have two tickets for the skybox next Sunday. A call from me and you and a guest will be able to meet with the coaches and the players. They’re yours to do with as you please – but I’d be highly disappointed if you don’t take your quarterback with you.”

Clara staunchly ignores the last bit. “Lex, that’s so nice of you, but I can’t take that.”

He looks exasperated. “What is it about Kents and gifts?” He thrusts the envelope at her. “It’s yours. Invite Whitney. Trust me, you’ll win him. This access you have to what he wants gives you the power. All you’ve got to do is use it.”

She hesitantly takes the envelope.

***

The entire evening and throughout the next day, the tickets – which she’d purposefully left in the loft – and what Lex has said about them run in a constant loop in her head. The person she really wants to go with is Lex, except that’s impossible and one she shouldn’t even be thinking of. Not only is there a 6-year difference in their ages – she’d looked it up – but he has no interest in her, and she doesn’t want to ruin what could be a really great friendship by fruitlessly pining after him.

She supposes the fastest way to stop crushing on Lex is to find someone else to like, except the only other person she even remotely has feelings for is Whitney, and he isn’t available either.

Deciding to at least put the tickets to good use, Clara thinks of giving them to Chloe and Pete, except the former dislikes football and the latter would sooner never watch football again than to accept tickets from a Luthor. In the end, she decides to ask her father.

“Hey dad,” she says in greeting when she tracks him down in the back forty. “What would you say if we could be sitting in a deluxe box next Sunday watching the Metropolis Sharks?”

“Did you win a lottery, Clara?” he chuckles, before straightening up when he sees the tickets she holds up in her hand. “What is this?”

“Tickets to the game next Sunday,” she repeats. “I know how much you love the Sharks and-”

Jonathan’s eyes narrow. “Wait a minute. Did Lex Luthor arrange this?”

Clara pauses before saying, “He offered me the tickets because he couldn’t use them.”

He snorts before remarking as sarcastically as possible, “How generous of him.”

She feels a spike of temper rearing its head. Swallowing it down, she says as evenly as she can manage, “Oh come on, dad. Lex isn’t his father. He’s been nothing but nice-”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Not this again,” she groans. “He’s my friend-”

“He’s buying your attention with expensive gifts-”

“Jesus, dad!” she yells in frustration. “As if Lex Luthor would bother buying the attention of an awkward high school girl when he no doubt has supermodels on speed dial!” It’s a reminder to herself as much as it is to her father.

“You’re beautiful, Clara, and you’re becoming a woman-”

She groans loud enough to drown out Jonathan’s words. “Never mind, forget about the tickets!” she yells before hurrying away.

When she returns to the loft, she’s surprised to see Whitney there, looking through her telescope in the direction that she suspects is Lana’s house.

“Whitney! What are you doing here?”

He steps away from the telescope after not so subtly nudging it back up. “Your mom said I could wait up here. I hope you don’t mind.”

He turns to look around the loft. As it’s the upper-level balcony of the barn, it’s quite spacious, with several bookcases against the walls, a couch on one end and a desk with a chair on the other. A hammock is even hung up in the corner, near the window of the barn. “This is an amazing place.”

Clara smiles. “Thanks. My dad built it for me. Calls it my fortress of solitude.” Her smile becomes a little strained as she remembers her earlier conversation with him.

When Whitney nods, she fidgets a little before saying, “So why are you here? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you and all, but…” she shrugs.

“I wanted to thank you for saving my life, and to apologize for the whole scarecrow thing.”

“I’m glad you’re okay and that I was able to help. But as for your apology, I’m not the one who you should be apologizing to.”

“I’ve already talked to Russell. I just… I wanted to get back at him for you. We might not really know each other, but no one deserves to be treated like that, you know?”

Clara finds herself blushing again. She forces herself to speak.

“I get that you were trying to help, and I appreciate it, but I am capable of fighting my own battles, Whitney.”

“I know,” he says, looking over at her wryly, and Clara can’t help but instinctively hunch, suddenly recalling that they’d been the same height not even a year earlier. “Anyway, thanks Clara.”

She pulls out the envelope with the tickets, but she pauses as she looks down at it. By the time she looks up again, Whitney’s gone.

***  

Finally done with her homework, Clara stretches. She’s about to relax on her hammock when she hears Jonathan grunting.

Seeing him put large blades on a mower, she asks as a peace offering, “Need a hand, dad?”

“Best idea I’ve heard all night,” he says with a relieved smile.

As she’s walking down the stairs, she hears something weird. She stops and turns around, trying to figure out what it is, when someone jumps out of the shadows and lands on top of her in an attempt to strangle her.

Her eyes widen as she sees a face she recognizes.

“Get off!” she yells as she throws the assailant away from her.

“Clara?” Jonathan yells in alarm and he bolts up the stairs. “What happened? Are you all right?”

She shakes her head. “There’s someone in the rafters.”

Jonathan immediately pulls out a flashlight and turns it on, and she does the same. As they carefully sweep the rafters, Jonathan manages to shine his light at the intruder. Before he can say anything, he’s forcefully shoved through the railing.

“Dad!” Clara screams as she sees him fall through the wooden railing, heading straight for the blades below. She jumps down and pushes the blades away before catching her father in her arms.

As she breathes a sigh of relief and helps him get to his feet, Jonathan shakes his head.

“What in the hell just happened?”

***

Martha’s hands tremble as she carefully runs them over Jonathan.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he says reassuringly. “Clara saved me. She seems to be making a habit of saving people.”

Martha breathes a sigh of relief. “Did you get a look at his face?”

He shakes his head. “I never saw anybody move like that. He came right off the ceiling at me. It was almost as if he-”

“Wasn’t entirely human?” Clara finishes. “I saw his face. I think it was Greg Arkin.”

“Greg Arkin?” Martha repeats in surprise. “I don’t think you ever even spoke to him before, did you Clara?”

She shakes her head. “I mean, I see him in the _Torch_ office sometimes.”

“So then why would he want to hurt you?” Jonathan asks, looking rather confused.

Clara shrugs. “I don’t know. All I know about him is that he collects flies and every other bug he can get his hands on.” She shivers. Although she knows now that she’s impervious – and even before, bugs have never bitten or stung her – she’s never been a fan of insects or arachnids.

“Clara, kids just don’t leap off the ceiling and attack people,” Jonathan points out.

She shines her flashlight at the gooey green footprints on the barn ceiling. “Then how do you explain that?”

Despite the evidence, he continues to look skeptical. “I don’t know. Seems kind of out there.”

Both Clara and Martha look at him incredulously.

“This coming from the man who’s been hiding a spaceship in his storm cellar for the past 12 years.”

Jonathan sighs. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you, Clara. It’s just… I’m having trouble getting my head around this one.”

Clara supposes it’s one thing knowing your daughter is an alien with superpowers, and another thing entirely when regular old humans do things that should be impossible.

She fidgets before asking, “Mom, dad, do you ever wonder why all these weird things happen in Smallville?”

Martha smiles kindly at her. “Every town has its share of tall tales, sweetheart.”

“Except here they’re all true,” she argues. “Chloe has this wall that’s covered with all these articles she’s collected about all the weird stuff that’s happened in Smallville since the meteor shower.”

Jonathan comfortingly squeezes her shoulder. “Look, Clara, if you’re talking about 50-pound tomatoes and two-headed calves, then I got a better explanation for you: LuthorCorp. I mean, god only knows what that fertilizer plant’s been pumping out over the last 12 years.”

She knows that’s what most of the townspeople believe. She’d believed the same. Until Jeremy. She’d seen him and the power he’d had with her own eyes. Power he wouldn’t have had if it hadn’t been for the meteor shower that had come down with her when she’d arrived on Earth.

Still, she doesn’t say anything about him. She can’t. Clara thinks it’s because a part of her wants to believe her father, that the meteor rocks aren’t to blame – that she’s not to blame.

***

“Chloe!” Clara calls out when she spots her in the halls at school the next day. She’d scoured seemingly the entire building and had yet to locate Greg. Considering how he’d tried to kill her and her father the day before, it’s not really surprising he’d skipped school for the day. She can only hope Chloe, as the editor for _The_ _Torch_ , has a way to get ahold of him.

“Hey!”

“Is Greg Arkin still the science reporter for _The_ _Torch_?”

Chloe shoots her a disgruntled look. “Well, if your definition of a reporter is someone who actually turns in articles, then no. Greg hasn’t shown his face in the office for like a week.”

“I’ve got to find him. Will you let me know if you see him around?”

Her eyes narrow. “What’s with the sudden interest in Greg? You coming out the entomology closet?”

Clara tries to smile. “It’s nothing. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You know, I hate it when you do that,” Chloe tells her flatly.

She stops. “Do what?”

“Just shut me out. It’s like one minute you’re here, and then the next you’re gone.” Chloe breathes in deeply. “You’re not outgrowing me as a friend, are you?”

Clara is taken aback. “Chloe, I could never outgrow you.” Her lips twitch. “Other than vertically.”

The blonde snorts, but she looks relieved.

“What brought this on?”

She shrugs. “You never told me what happened with Russell, and you’re all of a sudden best buds with Lana.”

Clara feels a stab of guilt for having neglected her best friend. “Oh, Chloe…”

The blonde shakes her head. “Forget it. Tell me what’s up with Greg.”

***

Later that afternoon, Clara meets Chloe and Pete at the _Torch_ office to share what they’ve each found.

“So I found an article about Amazonian tribesmen who took on traits of the insects they’d been bitten by, but nothing as extreme as what you’re talking about. Did you have any luck?”

“Only that Greg didn’t move to Smallville until after the meteor shower, so he couldn’t have been exposed to the blast.” It had been such a relief to discover that fact.

Of course, Chloe has to ruin it. “Yeah, but his bugs could have been. Think about it, Clara. Pieces of that meteor are still buried all over Smallville. The whole habitat’s infected. So when boy catches bugs and bugs bite boy, you end up with… bug boy.”

Even as Pete snorts at the pun, Clara refuses to believe it. “Chloe, you can’t even walk out your door in the summertime without being bitten by a mosquito. Why don’t we have a whole town of bug people?”

“Uh… oh! Because you need a certain level of toxins to cause a mutation! Those Amazonian tribesmen were all attacked by swarms.”

Pete hums. “Greg did keep tanks of bugs in his room. Maybe they got sick of the view and staged a revolt,” he jokes.

Looking grim, Chloe puts down her stack of papers. “Well, according to my research, bugs have a very short life cycle. So if he really has gone Kafka, let’s hope he isn’t in the mating phase.”

At that disgusting thought, they exchange disturbed glances, and wordlessly decide to head over to Greg’s house just in case.

***

When knocking doesn’t get them anywhere, Chloe says, “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”

Pete looks through a window and winces at what he sees. There are what looks like dirt tracks and handprints all over the walls.

“Man, this place is a mess. Greg’s mom was such a neat freak too – she used to make me take off my shoes before she’d let me inside. One time I forgot and she yelled at me.”

“Is that what broke up the friendship?”

He sighs. “After 7th grade, Greg’s parents got divorced and he just stopped calling after that. Which sucked because he had a killer tree fort his dad built in the woods by the old Creekside Foundry.”

Chloe brightens. “The one that got hit with the meteor shower?”

Pete slowly nods. “In fact, he used to collect his bugs from all around there.”

Clara inwardly winces. If he attacks again when they go there, she’ll be at a serious disadvantage.

“You guys, come here,” Chloe says, having realized the window isn’t locked. She opens it and sneaks in.

***

Looking around the house is like walking through some kind of a bizarre Halloween haunted house. Hand and foot prints litter the walls and the ceiling, and traces of spider webbing is seemingly everywhere.

Matters don’t improve when they go up the stairs to the second floor.

Pete grimaces when he sees the mess in the shower. “Oh man, that’s disgusting! What is it?”

Clara reluctantly takes a closer look. “I think it’s skin. He must be molting.”

He groans in disgust but diligently continues to take photos.

“You guys better come in here!” Chloe calls out.

The blonde is in a room full of webbing. Considering the state of it, Clara thinks this must be Greg’s bedroom. But most disturbing of all is a video playing on the television, of Lana sitting outside and reading. It’s clearly taken without her knowledge, and a quick glance shows numerous other tapes by the TV, undoubtedly also of Lana.

Pete shakes his head. “Oh man, looks like someone has the hots for Lana.”

“More like a stalker-level obsession. I think Greg’s found his mate,” Chloe concludes grimly.

As Pete continues to take photos, Clara sees that in the corner of the room, the spider webs are thicker. She walks over.

“What do you see, Clara?” Chloe asks.

She knows she can use her x-ray vision to check it out, but she has a feeling she’s not going to like what she finds, and she’d rather see it only once. “I’m not sure.”

Pete pauses and turns to her. “Uh, Clara?” he says warily. “This is the part in every horror movie when a character does something stupid like looking at a suspicious patch of webbing in a dark corner, and gets themselves killed. And I’ll remind you, you’re two white girls and I’m a black guy.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Chloe’s voice is full of trepidation. “I don’t like this.”

Clara reaches up and pulls the webbing apart. Chloe screams and Pete jerks back as a body falls out. Although her face is shriveled, there’s no mistaking who it must be.

“Poor Mrs. Arkin!”

“Chloe, contact the police, and Pete, stay with her in case Greg comes back.”

“What are you going to do, Clara?”

“Find Lana and warn her.” She only hopes she isn’t too late.

As Chloe digs out her cell phone from her bag and calls 911, Pete tells her, “Stay safe.”

Clara tries to smile. “You too.”

***

“Lana! Lana!” Clara calls out as she enters the stable where Lana’s aunt Nell Potter had said she would be.

To her surprise, Whitney tumbles out of one of the stalls. “Greg’s got her.”

Clara hurries over to help him stand. “What happened?”

Whitney winces. “I’m not sure. Greg threw me against the wall like it was nothing, then grabbed Lana. I’ve never seen somebody that strong before.”

“Which way did he go?” She has a feeling she knows what he’s going to say, but she still holds out hope that she might be wrong.

Unfortunately, she isn’t.

“I think he headed off into the woods.”

Seeing the look on Clara’s face, Whitney grabs her shoulders. “You know where he’s going?”

She nods. “Pete said he has a tree fort in the woods not far from the old Creekside Foundry.”

Whitney heads towards his car. “Call the police, Clara. I’m going to get Lana.”

Clara speeds away before he even makes his way out of the stables.

***  

With her x-ray vision, it doesn’t take long for her to find the tree fort. Doing her best to suppress her fear of heights, she steadily climbs up the ladder while resolutely refusing to look down. She reminds herself that even if she falls, she can’t be hurt.

It doesn’t help.

When she finally gets inside, she sees Lana under a blanket of webs, unconscious.

“Get away from her,” Greg orders. “You shouldn’t have meddled in matters that don’t concern you.”

Clara takes a deep breath. “Greg, I know what’s happened to you.”

“Then you know that I’ve been freed.”

She shakes her head. “No, you haven’t. You’re a slave to your instincts.”

Greg jumps up from where he’s been crouched in the corner. “I have no rules, Clara. I eat what I want, I go where I want, and I take what I want.”

She stands firm. “Lana isn’t yours to take.”

“Well then, try to stop me.”

Greg launches at her and they both fall out of the tree fort. Clara lands on her back but he doesn’t – in fact, he doesn’t land anywhere near her. She looks around and sees him running away and jumping over a chain link fence, heading for the Creekside Foundry.

Clara gives immediate chase. As soon as she enters the old foundry, however, she stumbles. She can see meteor rocks scattered on the ground, but she refuses to give up. Hoping to get far enough away from them to lessen their effects, she goes up the stairs to a wooden platform. Unfortunately, she only becomes exposed to more pieces of the meteor rocks and gets progressively weaker.

Greg walks up behind her and, picking up a large pipe lying nearby, takes a powerful swing at her back. She’s sent flying across the warehouse and lands in the worst possible position – right next to a large cluster of meteor rocks. Clara has never felt pain like this before, and the veins in her hands turn green and start to bulge.

“Hey Clara,” Greg says almost conversationally, “Did you know the Buffalo ant can lift 30 times its own body weight?” Then as though to illustrate that very fact, he throws her across the warehouse again like it’s nothing.

Clara crawls into a broken metal shell, hoping to hide until she can come up with some way of stopping him.

Greg’s laughter sounds cruel. “Cla-ra?” he mockingly singsongs. “Cla-ra, where are you? Come on out! I just want to play. Cla-ra?”

It only takes a few seconds before she realizes her hand is back to normal and she no longer feels the debilitating pain or the weakness she typically experiences. She looks at the metal shell that surrounds her and realizes it must be shielding her from the effects of the meteor rocks somehow.

Greg approaches her hiding spot. “Give it up, Clara! You can’t fight natural law! Only the strong survive.”

Clara comes out from behind him and forcefully shoves him against a concrete slab.

“Did you really think you could hide from me?” he sneers.

She tosses him with enough strength that he seems dazed when he crashes against a support beam. Snarling, Greg tries to stand and instead accidentally pulls a lever next to him.

“Greg, watch out!” Clara calls out in warning, but it’s too late. A large block of metal falls on him, crushing him, but instead of a body being trapped, thousands of bugs crawl out from under it and head off into the woods.

She shivers. “So creepy,” she mutters to herself before making her way back to the tree fort.

Spotting Whitney’s car, she uses her x-ray vision to see into the fort. Lana is crying and shaking as Whitney tenderly holds her.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe. You’re safe,” he reassures her as he tightens his embrace.

Clara pulls out the envelope from her pocket and looks at it. She doesn’t know if she would have asked Whitney to the game if she’d had the chance. She thinks that if she actually did get to know him, she could like him as more than a friend. But she doesn’t need him like Lana does, like he probably wants to be needed. Besides, she thinks she likes the idea of him – the star quarterback and captain of the football team – more than the actual person, as though if people see her with him, they’ll think she’s normal and worthy of acknowledgement and affection, and then she’ll be popular and everything will be magically better.

Except it won’t.

Clara heads over to his car and tucks the envelope beneath a windshield wiper. She watches from afar as Whitney and Lana slowly walk towards his car, and the look on his face when he sees the tickets is one of pure joy. As he hugs and kisses Lana, Clara speeds back to the Foundry.

She heads straight for the metal shell that had saved her. After tearing the metal into strips, she shapes it into a small box. She approaches the group of meteor rocks closest to the entrance, and extends her hand towards it. As before, she doesn’t just feel weak and nauseous – it’s physically painful, almost like what she imagines blood boiling in her body might feel like. With a groan, she grabs the smallest piece of meteor rock and dumps it into the box, before covering the top with another piece of the metal shell.

With that accomplished, Clara heads home.

***  

“What is it?” Martha asks, examining the crude metal box sitting on the kitchen table.

“I don’t know. But it shields me from the effects of the meteor rocks somehow.”

Clara pulls the top off and Martha and Jonathan can see that inside it is a meteor rock. It glows an eerie green, and they see that where Clara’s hand is exposed, it turns white and her veins start to bulge. Seeing the clear pain on her face, Jonathan replaces the lid and watches with astonishment as her hand quickly returns to normal.

He carefully lifts the box to examine it.

“Looks like it might be lead. Hang on,” he tells them as he heads to the laundry room. Returning with his toolbox, Jonathan hurriedly dumps out its contents before taking the meteor rock out of its makeshift box and placing it in the toolbox instead.

“This toolbox is made from lead,” he says as he closes the lid.

Clara slowly approaches. She doesn’t feel the nausea and weakness, and even when her hand is touching the toolbox, it remains perfectly normal.

Her parents breathe a sigh of relief.

“So lead can protect you from the meteor rocks! That’s good news, honey,” Martha says with a relieved smile.

Clara sighs. “If only I could go around covered in lead from head to toe.”

“So what happened tonight?”

By the time she tells her parents everything that had happened with Greg, Martha has finished making her famous hot chocolate. As she pours each of them a mug, she asks, “But why attack you?”

Clara shrugs. “My guess? He saw me save Whitney and wanted me out of the way.”

Martha curls around her and hands her a mug of hot chocolate. “You know none of this is your fault,” she reminds her.

Clara nods. “I know.”

“But you still feel responsible,” she says understandingly.

“And that makes me human,” Clara repeats.

As Martha just hugs her tighter, Jonathan lovingly kisses her on the head.

“I’m so glad you guys are the ones who found me.”

“We didn’t find you, Clara. You found us,” Jonathan says.

“We found each other,” Martha corrects, and they smile at each other.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara defies her parents to finally fulfill her dream of becoming a cheerleader, to not a few people's disbelief. But is that what she really wants?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kudos! A couple of things:  
> 1) This chapter continues to heavily feature lines from the episode. Again that will change as the story progresses!  
> 2) I could have made Clara have an obsession with being a part of the girl's basketball team or track or some other sport, but considering Clara's version of an ideal girl is Lana, cheerleading seemed a more appropriate choice.  
> 3) There's an upcoming plot divergence that I'm wondering if I should pursue or not, and would love to discuss that with someone. If you don't mind being spoiled and are interested, please message me or write me a comment on where to send the details. Thank you!
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter Three

Smallville is a town of 45,000 people, and the biggest thing there – besides having the distinction of being the meteor capital of the world – is the high school’s football team, the Crows. They’ve won State Championships and they’re the town’s pride and joy. Clara doesn’t really see the appeal of football – being able to run faster than the receivers and throw farther than the quarterback means it all seems rather silly and boring to her – so she only really goes to the games if she’s forced to do so. Still, at least she doesn’t purposefully try and antagonize the Crows and their fans, unlike Chloe.

After publishing the front-page article for _The_ _Torch_ with the headline of ‘Football: Sport or Abuse?’ with an accompanying image of Coach Walt holding Whitney by the facemask of his football helmet, screaming in his face, Chloe decides the best thing to do is go by the football field and the courtyard, where the cheerleaders and the football players like to hang out.

Clara and Pete reluctantly accompany her when their attempts to reason with her fail.

“So, what do you think?” Chloe asks.

Clara looks up from the paper and eyes the cup of coffee Chloe is holding in her hand.

“I think you need to seriously decrease your cappuccino dependency,” she remarks dryly.

Pete laughs.

Chloe shoots them a mock glare before saying, “Pete thinks I’m being too hard on Coach Walt.”

“I mean,” he explains, “The man coached my dad and all my brothers. He used to come over and watch the Super Bowl.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Now, while I’m touched by that Hallmark moment, you don’t get points for subtlety in journalism.” With a spring in her step and a positively gleeful expression on her face, she happily says, “I’ve already started getting hate mail.”

Clara looks at her warily. “You seem very happy about that. Why?”

“Because it means I’m hitting a nerve! Besides, between the abysmal sentence structure and generous use of obscenities, I’ve got a pretty good idea of who’s been sending it.”

Pete puts a hand on her shoulder. “If you think my teammates are reading _The Torch_ , you’re giving them way too much credit,” he points out before tousling the spiky hair at the back of her head.

Chloe wordlessly acknowledges his point.

As Clara wistfully looks over at the cheerleaders, she sees Lana and Whitney standing just behind them, arguing.

“Don’t you even care about this?” Lana asks, clearly upset.

Whitney shrugs. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“You don’t think it’s a big deal? I think it’s a big deal,” she retorts, before storming off.

Chloe grins. “Ooh, there’s something you don’t see every day. A pompom meltdown.”

She and Pete laugh, but Clara doesn’t join in. She thinks she can guess what the argument is about, and she’s definitely on Lana’s side on this one. And it kind of disappoints her that Whitney thinks cheating done by his football buddies isn’t a big deal. As someone who will be relying on applying for academic scholarships to afford college – what with having barely any extracurricular activities on her CV – it’s extremely important that grades are earned fairly by all students and that there aren’t any questions into their veracity.

And it isn’t as though Whitney is protesting his friends’ innocence – he knows they cheated on their math midterm yet is perfectly willing to ignore that, all so they can play football and win another game. It sucks that someone she’d thought of as a good guy, someone she’d even had a crush on, turns out not to be that good a person after all.

Clara can’t help but look over at Whitney in disappointment. The blond quarterback appears upset over Lana’s reaction, but in yet another twist, is surprisingly not going after Lana; instead, he turns back to his friends and joins in their conversation as though nothing of import has occurred.

“Ooh, ooh, here they come!” Chloe says, snapping Clara out of her thoughts. She turns and sees a group of football players exiting the building and pass by them.

“Pete, I need a picture of the cheating jockstraps,” the blonde says quietly, and he obligingly takes the camera strap off his shoulder and hands the digital camera to her.

At Coach Walt’s call, the football players and the cheerleaders gather around him. Once he sees that he has all their attention, he states, “I don’t want to hear any rumors of cheating going around, any false accusations.”

Clara looks over at Chloe. “Any idea how they got that midterm?”

Chloe takes another photo. “It’s still a mystery, but I’m working on it.”

“Hey, what’s she doin’?” one of the football players asks.

Spotting Chloe with a camera in hand, one of the players throws a football at her head. Before it can slam into her face, Clara extends her arm and easily catches it in one hand.

Chloe looks at Clara with relief and amazement as Pete grins.

“Ooh, nice catch!” he says, reaching up to pat her on the back.

“One of your teammates attempts to assassinate me, and all you say is nice catch?” Chloe bites out angrily before storming away.

Pete grimaces before hurriedly following after her. “I thought you wanted to hit a nerve!”

Clara glares at the player who threw the football before throwing it back hard enough that he doubles over as it hits him in the stomach.

“Uhh!” he groans, before straightening up when Coach Walt looks at him. As the bell rings and everyone starts walking away, Coach Walt looks at her with speculation. Clara furrows her brows in confusion before she turns to follow Chloe and Pete.

***

“Come on, you have to help me get back in Chloe’s good graces,” Pete begs a couple of hours later. Despite his typical attempts to endear himself to her – teasing, tickling, and otherwise making a fool of himself – Chloe has continued to ignore him, and Pete’s getting desperate.

Taking pity on the poor soul, Clara digs through her backpack and hands over her mother’s newest baking concoction, triple layer almond chocolate bars that she’d nicked that morning as they were cooling on the rack. Pete’s eyes light up with delight, and Clara can almost see the drool gathering at the corners of his mouth.

“This is for Chloe,” she reminds him. “This, along with an almond mocha with extra whip, should do the trick.”

Pete looks disappointed – there’s a reason why her mother’s baked goods sell out at the Beanery within the hour, after all – but nods solemnly in thanks, and though he enviously eyes the bars, rather than sampling any, he hides them in his bag to remove any temptation and for safekeeping.

They’re about to head over to the _Torch_ office when Coach Walt approaches them.

“Hey Kent, I saw your arm out there. Technique was lousy but you got a lot of power.”

“Thanks?” she says, not sure why Coach Walt is talking to her. He’s strictly a football coach and doesn’t even teach gym class; they’ve never interacted before.

“Any chance you got brothers? Jonathan Kent was one of the best athletes I ever coached. A lot of god-given talent. It’s clearly in your genes.”

Clara’s lips twitch. “Actually, I’m adopted.”

Pete chuckles, but Coach Walt looks less than pleased.

“It’s too bad you’re not a boy, Kent,” he remarks. “You could’ve been something.”

As Clara frowns at the dig, Pete pipes up. “You’ve still got me, Coach!”

He chuckles before patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t have a lick of natural talent but you got a truckload of heart, Ross.”

Pete looks rather taken aback. “Thanks, I guess.”

As Coach Walt heads off, Pete and Clara exchange quizzical glances.

“What was that all about?”

“Don’t know,” she replies. As she stares at Coach Walt’s retreating back, her gaze catches on the large glass case by the wall. It’s filled with trophies and photos of past football players and cheerleaders, their smiling faces forever memorialized in frames. Coach’s remark rings in her head, and not for the first time, Clara wishes she could be among their number.

“Hello? Earth to Clara?”

Clara jerks back. “Sorry Pete. So have you prepared a suitably groveling speech yet?”

***

As Clara is dreaming of making her mark in Smallville High, Lex is heading towards his study after his workout when he sees three men in suits standing around rather impatiently. Despite having cancelled the meeting, a part of him had expected this, which is why he’d purposely started his workout a little later than usual, in hopes of keeping them waiting. In his workout clothes and with a towel draped around his neck, Lex knows he’ll offend his fathers’ lackeys’ sensibilities and get them all ruffled. Looking rather forward to seeing that, he strolls in casually, his every movement unhurried and nonchalant.

He pointedly dabs his face and neck with the ends of the towel first before remarking, “Well, if it isn’t the three wise men.”

As Lex passes them and heads over to a beverage table to grab a cold bottle of Ty Nant, he greets one of them facetiously. “Hello, Dominic.”

Dominic Sanatori, his father’s assistant and the biggest suck-up on Lionel’s payroll, follows. “I’m assuming you’re running late because you’ve been at a fencing lesson, or have you taken up polo again?” he snidely remarks.

The dirty blond’s obvious jealousy of Lex only serves to amuse him. He lets out a chuckle before taking a sip of water. “I’m not running late. I cancelled this meeting if you recall.”

“And your father insisted that we drive down here and keep it.”

Lex smirks, not bothering to mask his amusement. “Mmm, and when he barks, you jump.”

As though to prove his point, Dominic continues to trail after him like a puppy as he heads over to the pool table. “Have you seen the quarterly numbers?”

“Yes, I have.” Lex selects a cue stick from a rack on the wall as he says airily, “We’re 20% below projections.”

“And your father wants you to take drastic action,” Dominic informs him.

Lex chalks the end of his cue and says unconcernedly, “I plan to.”

Dominic’s smile is tight, betraying his irritation at Lex’s attitude. “Good. Then I can inform him that you’ll be cutting your workforce?”

“On the contrary, you can inform him I plan on increasing my workforce.”

Dominic frowns. “By how much?”

Lex leans over the pool table and lines up his shot. “20%.”

Dominic lets out a chuckle. “Lex, I’ve always enjoyed your… unique sense of humor, but you can’t be serious.”

Lex refrains from sighing at the idiocy before him. “You gotta spend money to make money, Dominic. If we increase productivity and marketing while our competitors retreat, when the sector bounces back-” he breaks and sinks a ball into a pocket- “we’ll corner the market.”

Dominic’s tanned skin flushes, a look that does him no favors. The veins in his neck protrude and his voice is tight as he exclaims, “Your father sent you to Smallville to turn the plant around!”

Lex’s abrupt movements betray his frustration. “My father sent me to Smallville because he’d rather surround himself with drones than people who challenge his archaic business practices,” he retorts belligerently, and pointedly looks at Dominic and then at the other two men still lingering by the door, making it clear just exactly who he’s speaking of.

“I’ll be certain to tell him that,” Dominic retorts.

The look on his father’s face is bound to be priceless; Lex only wishes he could see it. “Please do. Now, this meeting is adjourned.”

As Dominic turns to leave, he blandly adds, “By the way, Dominic, tell your sister I said hi.”

Dominic freezes, before slowly turning back around to face Lex. Shooting him a glare, he storms out.

Lex doesn’t bother to hide the bemused twitch of his lips.

***

Physical education is Clara’s least favorite class. She obviously doesn’t have any difficulties performing any of the activities as required – it is indeed hilariously easy – but she has to constantly fake it so as to not betray anything odd about her. Her reputation of being a klutz helps tremendously, and her clear reluctance to catch, throw, or otherwise hit back any ball ensures she is always picked last for any team and is assigned the most useless position in any given circumstances. But just because she successfully hides her abilities from everyone doesn’t mean she doesn’t get frustrated at the fact that she has to hide and put up with being thought of and labeled as pathetic and inept. Nevertheless, her fear of being discovered and the consequences that may result far outweigh any aggravation she feels, and mutes any desire to show off to her peers for what would only be a momentary benefit.

Today they’re playing dodge ball, which actually has Clara breathing a sigh of relief. This is one of the few games that she doesn’t mind, as all she has to do is endure being picked last as she is always the first to be eliminated, allowing her to sit and relax for the remainder of the period. And it’s not like any of the balls she gets hit by cause her any physical pain, no matter how hard any of them throw. The only trick is to make it seem like she isn’t just standing there waiting to be hit, to ensure she doesn’t get assigned additional exercises for slacking.

After the headline of that day’s school paper, however, Chloe finds herself receiving a barrage of balls thrown at her direction, including a few aimed at her head. The spiky blonde is unhurt, but Clara knows from personal experience that that doesn’t mean anything. As the teacher makes noise about good sportsmanship and the like, Clara sidles up to her.

“You okay?”

Chloe is clearly rattled, but she also looks determined. “I’m fine, Clara.”

Before Clara can say anything else, a whistle blows. “Kent, get back over here!”

Grimacing, Clara jogs back towards where the game has already started. She’s contemplating targeting Mandy to get back at her for hitting Chloe’s head with a ball when the said ball in question hits her arm. Clara looks over in surprise, only to see Lana’s sheepish grin aimed in her direction.

Unsurprisingly, as is often the case, Lana wins. It’s not that the brunette is particularly good at dodge ball, but rather that the opposing team by and large don’t want to hit Lana for fear of hurting her. There are several girls that don’t care about that, of course, Chloe being one of them, but they also tend to be the unpopular girls, meaning they get targeted first and are often taken out of the game before any of them can aim for Lana.

Looking at the clock on the wall, the teacher makes them run laps around the gym for the remainder of the class. Groaning, they do as instructed, and Clara, as usual, purposefully falls behind the rest. Chloe, who normally slacks off with her, is leading the pack, clearly taking her anger and frustration out by running full tilt.

Once the whistle blows signaling the end of class, Chloe heads directly for the locker room, undoubtedly eager for a shower. Clara takes her time and loiters about the gym, letting all the other girls go into the locker room first. There are always more than a few girls who will make nasty remarks about her, and though she often does her best to pretend not to have heard it, she’d rather forgo the whole pretense if at all possible.

Clara’s just about to open the door to the locker room when coach Barbara, the gym teacher from Smallville Elementary who’d opted to join the staff at Smallville High, waylays her.

“Kent, how do you feel about joining the cheerleading squad?”

Clara’s brows furrow in confusion. “But you held tryouts weeks ago. Isn’t the squad full?”

Coach Barbara purses her lips in displeasure. “Lana quit, and with the big football game being this Friday, I don’t have time to hold another tryout. I know you can do this, Kent, I’ve seen you do it.”

Clara winces. When she was younger and before she’d hit her growth spurt, there’d been times when she hadn’t been as careful of her abilities as she should’ve been. To her parents’ dismay, she had demonstrated her gymnastics skills in class by easily doing backflips and splits, to the amazement of everyone around her. It had resulted in coach Barbara attempting to sign her up for anything and everything, from gymnastic competitions to track and field. Thankfully, she soon became so tall and her klutz attacks – thanks to Lana’s meteor rock necklace – so frequent, that she no longer had to come up with excuses as to why she had to turn her down.

“I’m rusty, coach,” Clara says, but the skeptical look coach shoots her makes it clear she isn’t believed.

“Plus my dad needs me on the farm,” she tries again. “I don’t really have the time-”

“Well, your school needs you,” coach interrupts. “Look, look, your dad played football and he knows how important support is for the team morale. I know he would understand.”

“He’s kind of stubborn,” she says, looking rather doubtful at the coach’s claim.

“Clara, there comes a time when you have to step out of your parents’ shadow and be your own person. Now what do you say? You ready to be your own woman?”

She wavers. “Let me think about it.”

Coach sighs. “Look, I am giving you a chance to be a part of something special, a part of history. Don’t tell me you don’t want to be a part of this.”

Clara hesitates. Coach Walt’s words ring through her head once again. She can’t deny that she’s always wanted people to look at her and see something more than just a tall, awkward freak in cheap men’s clothes. Her biggest wish is to be like everyone else and fit in and belong among the students of Smallville High. And without Lana and her meteor rock necklace standing in her way, this could be her one chance at normal.

She breathes in deeply and straightens up. “Count me in.”

Coach smiles. “Good. I’ll see you at practice. Don’t be late.”

Clara nods, but her smile betrays her nerves.

***

She hurries home and goes to find her father first, because she knows he’ll be the harder sell. Unlike her mother, he’d been one of the popular kids in school, and so has no frame of reference for just why she’s so eager to belong. She finds him in the barn, fixing a piece of equipment.

“Hi honey, how was school?”

“It was fine.” Clara clears her throat. “I got asked by coach Barbara to join the cheerleading squad, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer so I had to say yes.”

Jonathan straightens up. “Uh, wait a minute. What do you mean you _had_ to say yes?”

She grins sheepishly. “She sort of didn’t give me a choice. She even said a speech and everything, about being my own person-”

He snorts. “She must’ve stolen that from Walt. He’s been giving that same speech for 25 years. It’s effective, I’ll give you that. Just go and tell her you can’t join the cheerleading squad.”

Her face falls. “Dad, please don’t make me do that.”

He sighs. “Clara, I’m sorry but we’ve already had this conversation.”

“It’s never been a conversation,” she retorts. “I tell you I can be careful and you say no because you don’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you, Clara,” he says. “But…”

When he seems unable to find the right words, she jumps in.

“But what? This is cheerleading, not a contact sport! I’ll only be doing cheers, for crying out loud!” She takes a deep breath and forces herself to calm down. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

Jonathan shakes his head. “When you’re in front of a crowd, a million things can happen that can affect your judgment. I mean, if you get too caught up, even for just a second, or you, uh, you try to impress a guy with a fancy move-”

She throws her hands up in the air. “And how is that you trusting me?”

He sighs again. “Honey, you were meant for much more important things than cheerleading.”

Clara refuses to be placated. “I’m sick of being punished because I have these powers,” she spits out in exasperation. Shaking her head, she tries a different tack. “You know, most parents would be happy if their daughter could be the head cheerleader.”

Jonathan places a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’m happy when you wake up in the morning. I don’t need to live vicariously through your achievements.”

She pulls away. “Why would you? You got to be a big shot football player and be a part of a team and be _normal_.”

He sighs once again but remains unmoved. “I’m not signing a permission slip, Clara.”

She straightens up. “You don’t have to. I’m going to join the cheerleading squad and you can’t stop me.”

When Jonathan stares at her, she refuses to give way and stands her ground.

***

One of the things Clara hadn’t thought of when she’d agreed to join the cheerleading squad is the fact that because of her height, the uniform looks rather too revealing on her. She’s showing far too much leg and midriff than she is comfortable with, though she does like the red uniform with goldenrod strips at the edges.

Feeling rather self-conscious, she tugs the skirt down as far as it will go and puts on the matching white cardigan to at least cover her stomach. Though she’s still showing more leg than she’s comfortable with, at least she doesn’t look indecent.

As Clara heads out and walks onto the grass, she smiles as she takes it all in. She can picture the crowd watching her as she leads them to cheer for the Crows, truly seeing _her_ for the first time, and her heart begins to race.

Just then, she spots Jonathan sitting on the bleachers and her grin widens. She runs over to him.

“Dad, I’m glad you’re here. It means a lot to me.”

He doesn’t return her smile. “I still don’t support your decision, Clara. I’m only here to see that nothing goes wrong.”

She can’t hide the sting she feels at that. Giving him a look of disappointment and hurt, she heads back out onto the field.

After stretches and warm-ups, they get into position. As the tallest person on the squad, Clara is put right in the middle. And without Lana and her meteor rock necklace, she has no problems following the requisite movements, even if they don’t necessarily feel all that natural.

“Kent! You’re a cheerleader, not a zombie! You need to actually cheer and smile!” coach Barbara shouts.

Felice Chandler, who had been thwarted in her hopes of taking over Lana’s old position, shoots her a condescending smile. Taking a deep breath, Clara gets into position again. This time, she does her best to cheer and smile and generally exude enthusiasm, and at the end, she does several backflips and lands in a forward split, waving her pompoms in the air.

“Whoa!”

“Check Kent out!”

“That was awesome!”

Clara’s smile is wide as she gets up. When she looks over at the stands, however, she only sees Jonathan’s retreating back. Her face falls, and even as her fellow cheerleaders congratulate her and she actually receives envious and admiring glances from the students milling around, she can’t quite muster up the same enthusiasm she’d felt just moments earlier.

Unwilling to return home just yet, Clara opts to stick around after practice ends and wait for Pete.

His face falls comically when he sees her. “Why aren’t you wearing your cute new uniform?”

Clara rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously. I’m surprised your dad didn’t order you to go change immediately seeing how much leg you were flashing.”

She huffs. “So it’s a little short-”

“A little?”

Before Clara can say anything, they hear screaming and see a burning car in the parking lot.

“Go get help!” she yells at Pete, who immediately runs back into the school.

Clara drops her backpack and zips over towards the car. Seeing the unconscious man – who happens to be Principal Kwan – she smashes the window on the driver’s side then takes the door off its hinges before tossing it away, hoping to mimic the effects of an explosion. She hurriedly pulls him out of the car and just about manages to carry him to safety as the car explodes behind them.

***

Dinner that night at the Kent house is uncomfortable, to say the least. Jonathan and Clara aren’t speaking to each other, both firmly believing they’re right, and after trying to keep the conversation going to no effect, Martha throws in the proverbial towel. The tension is only broken when the phone rings.

“Principal Kwan’s gonna be in the hospital til over the weekend,” Martha informs them as she returns to the table.

Clara swallows her bite of food. “Is he gonna be all right?”

“He’s got some burns and suffered smoke inhalation, but he’s gonna be okay thanks to you.”

“Anybody see you?” Jonathan asks, his tone sounding rather short and accusatory.

She tosses her fork down in frustration, though she manages to prevent damage from occurring to the new table. She thinks the fact that she can still restrain her strength despite it all says a lot about her capabilities and control.

“Nobody saw me, dad! And I told the paramedics that I wrapped my hands in my jacket when I pulled him out.”

He gives a single nod, and Martha, trying to ease some of the tension, says, “Lucky you were there.”

Clara snorts and stands up from the table. “Yeah. Luck.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Look, I saw you, all right?” He follows her to the kitchen with his own dirty plate. “You were showing off.”

She turns to face him. “Actually, I was restraining myself. Doing backflips and splits aren’t that unusual, dad – plenty of normal humans can do those things too.”

Jonathan only sighs.

She glances at Martha in defeat. “Look, why are we even having this conversation? He’s never gonna believe me.”

When neither of them says anything, Clara adds with a tremulous yet proud smile, “And by the way, you’re looking at the new head cheerleader.”

Jonathan just stares before he walks past her without a word.

“Don’t everyone congratulate me at once!”

When all Martha does is give her a look of sympathy, she storms out of the house. Martha winces as the door slams shut behind her.

“How did she get to be so stubborn?” Jonathan asks, frustrated and exhausted in equal measure.

“Gee, I don’t know,” she says pointedly.

“Hey, wait a minute! I was not like that when I was her age!” he protests.

“No, you were the obedient son who always obeyed his father and didn’t run away one summer and try out for the Metropolis Sharks.”

He throws up his hands. “Since when did you go and join the other side?”

Martha sighs. “Jonathan, Clara hasn’t been able to do anything normal her whole life; no playgroups, no softball, no soccer, not even the Girl Scouts, and all because we were afraid she might hurt somebody. She’s a teenager now. Let’s give her a shot.”

“Her gifts come with responsibilities,” he argues.

“This isn’t about her gifts, it’s about her judgment. You’re telling Clara that you don’t believe in her.”

“Of course I believe in her! I just don’t want her to make a mistake and cause somebody to suspect the truth. I don’t want anyone coming to this farm and taking our daughter away from us.”

Martha reaches for his hand. “Well, if we don’t start trusting her, nobody’s gonna have to take her away. She’s gonna leave all by herself.”

***

Unable to stand being around the farm, Clara heads into town. She decides to get a cup of coffee or something at the Beanery and is on her way there when she runs into Chloe and Pete.

“Hey guys!”

“Clara!” Chloe says before dragging her forward. “Tell me everything.”

She exchanges exasperated looks with Pete. “Didn’t Pete tell you? He was there.”

“Not for your dramatic rescue-”

“It wasn’t dramatic,” Clara argues.

“I’m sure. Now tell me what happened.”

After Clara finishes telling her version of what happened – which isn’t different from Pete’s, seeing as she’s been telling everyone the same story – Chloe frowns.

“You guys, it doesn’t make sense. Cars don’t just spontaneously combust.”

“The cops said it was faulty wiring,” Clara points out.

Chloe shoots her a look as though she can’t believe Clara could be so stupid as to believe that. Clara is actually rather offended, but before she can say anything, Chloe moves on.

“I’ve already got my headline: _Pompom Saves Principal from Burning Car_.”

Clara just sighs as she follows them into the Beanery.

“But seriously, I still can’t believe you, Clara Kent, have been blinded by the pompom brigade.”

“Chloe, I joined the cheerleading squad, not a cult.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. Just then, Lana walks past them. She’s wearing a green Beanery apron and has a tray of coffees in her hands.

“Lana, what are you doing here?” Clara asks.

“Taking your order, I hope.”

Looking at each other in confusion, they follow Lana to the back where there are empty tables. Like the Rosses and Gabe Sullivan, Nell Potter is more than comfortable enough financially that Lana doesn’t have to work. To quit cheerleading to wait tables at the Beanery is odd behavior, to say the least.

“W-what is this? Some sort of cheerleading charity, like be a waitress for a night sort of thing?” Chloe asks.

“Yes it is, except for the cheerleading and charity parts, and tips are always appreciated.”

Clara’s eyebrows tick up in surprise. “So you’re a waitress for real?”

Lana points at her nametag. “I’ve even got the perky nametag to prove it.”

“First day?” Pete asks as Lana delivers the coffees to the people sitting at the table next to them.

“Ever,” she replies.

Clara, as ever attuned to the presence of meteor rock – or lack thereof – points at her neck. “Where’s your necklace?”

Lana shoots her a tight smile. “Strict dress code – no jewelry and no open-toed shoes.”

“Well, you look very waitress-like,” Clara tells her, then winces inwardly at her lameness.

Lana kindly laughs as she turns to return to the counter. “Now, if I could only tell the difference between a half-caf decaf and a non-fat latte.”

“In that case, I’ll have a regular coffee,” Chloe orders.

“Hey, times three,” Pete chimes in.

As they sit down, they notice that the tray Lana had been carrying is still on their tabletop. Clara gets up to return it to her.

“Uh Lana, you forgot this.”

She offers Clara a sheepish smile. “Thanks. That’s been happening a lot today.”

“First days are always rough,” she says sympathetically, before clearing her throat. “So, you really just quit cheerleading?”

Lana leans sideways against the counter. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, it’s not like you broke any laws or anything, but I am. You always seemed so happy doing it.”

She looks away. “It was fun for awhile, but I just feel like there’s more to life than memorizing cheers and shaking pompoms, you know? I want to try new and different things. Besides, my mom was a cheerleader and so was my aunt. I figured it was time to break the vicious cycle.”

Clara fidgets a little before asking, “What did, uh, Whitney say?”

Before Lana can answer, the manager interrupts. “Lana, table 3 has been waiting for their drinks for 5 minutes. If they go cold, it’s coming out of your tips.”

“Right. Sorry,” she says with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be faster,” the manager instructs.

Leaving Lana to do her job, Clara heads back to the table.

“Clara Kent is a cheerleader and Lana Lang is a waitress,” Chloe remarks as soon as Clara sits down.

“And what’s wrong with that?” she says with a frown.

“Nothing. I just wanna click my heels and get back to reality.”

Rolling her eyes, Clara looks away and sees Trevor, one of the football players accused of cheating, head over to a group of disgraced fellow players sitting not too far from them.

“Coach needs to see us on the field right now,” he tells them quietly, but it’s still loud enough for Clara to overhear.

As they get up to leave, Chloe turns to Pete. “What’s up with your fallen brethren?”

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

She jumps up and grabs her coat. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Chloe?” Clara looks over at her friend in concern. “What are you going to do?”

“Relax, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

With that, she rushes towards the door past Lana who is holding a tray full of drinks. Lana, while attempting to say bye to Chloe, accidentally tilts the tray, causing some of the drinks to spill. As she tries to correct it, she doesn’t see a man coming towards her and nearly collides with him, dropping the tray and causing everything to shatter on the ground.

As customers applaud, Lana fidgets, clearly mortified. Knowing more than a little of what it feels like to be embarrassed in public, Clara helps Lana clean up.

“Thanks Clara,” she says gratefully. Her smile fades as she stands back up and catches the exasperated expression on the manager’s face.

Clara shoots her a look full of commiseration. “Good luck.”

***

Chloe, having stealthily followed the group back to the school, hides behind the bleachers as the football players accused of cheating gather on the football field with coach Walt. There are sprinklers spraying shoots of water all over the place, making the scene appear all the more dramatic. She eagerly pulls out her camera and starts to take photos.

“Congratulations,” coach barks out as he stalks the field in front of his players. “I’ve never seen a group of young men demonstrate such extraordinary stupidity. Now, which one of you talked? Huh? Who told Kwan that I supplied you with the test?”

“Coach, no college is even going to look at us with cheating on our record!” Trevor tries to explain.

“So it was you, huh, Trevor?” he snarls. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

He then backhands Trevor across the face, knocking him to the ground. Chloe, having missed the money shot, leans forward a little more, only to be completely startled as the water from the sprinklers suddenly turn into jets of flame. Eyes wide, Chloe barely manages to stifle her gasp.

As the football players panic, coach hollers, “Nothing, _nothing_ is gonna stand between me and my legacy! Now you go home, and you keep your mouths shut. Understand?”

At that, the fires explode outward, and looking terrified, the players all hurriedly agree. When coach Walt walks away, the fire dies down.

And Chloe has documented proof of the whole thing. She grins triumphantly.

***

Having heard the arrival of a helicopter, Lex isn’t surprised when Lionel bursts through the doors of his study. In fact, he doesn’t even look up from where he’s working at his desk.

“Congratulations Lex. You made the business page for once,” Lionel says derisively, and drops a paper onto Lex’s desk.

Lex doesn’t even bother glancing at it. “I told Dominic I was doing this 2 days ago,” he says mildly.

“Yes, and my drone dutifully reported it to me.”

Lex lips twitch a little at that.

“I just didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to implement it,” Lionel adds with a mean little laugh.

He does his best to hide his irritation. “If you had a problem, why didn’t you pick up the phone and call me?”

Lionel remarks as he walks a few steps away to examine the study, “We have a reporting structure. Just because you’re my son, don’t expect any special treatment.”

“Believe me, I never have,” he states blandly.

Lionel abruptly turns back around and strides around the desk to face Lex.

“That wounded pride routine may have worked for your mother, but don’t try it with me,” he snaps, sounding irate.   He forcibly calms himself and reaches out a hand to touch Lex’s face, but Lex pulls back, the mention of his mother only further souring his own mood. Lionel smoothly adjusts and grabs the back of Lex’s chair instead.

“You know perfectly well how I feel about you,” he finishes softly.

Lex purposefully keeps his head turned away. “Hence I’m at a crap factory in Smallville.”

“Lex. Did you know the Caesars would send their sons to the furthermost corners of the empire so they could get an appreciation of how the world works?”

Lex meets Lionel’s gaze head-on. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, dad.”

Lionel sighs as though Lex is being an impossible child before heading towards a stand where all the fencing swords are neatly arranged.

“All right. Here is how I propose we solve our impasse.” He grabs a sabre and swings it a few times, before testing its give. “We’ll fence for it. If you win, I’ll let you pursue your plan. If I win, you fire 20% of your workforce. The question you have to ask yourself, Lex, is are you good enough to take your old man?”

He stares flatly at Lionel before a corner of lips quirk up, the rush of adrenaline only feeding his eagerness to cut Lionel down a peg or two or three.

Lex’s study isn’t exactly the best place to have a fencing match, but neither of them suggests a change in venue. Indeed, they only spare enough time to change into the fencing uniform, though without masks. Lex wants to see his father’s humiliated face, and guesses Lionel doesn’t want his mane of hair to get tangled under the mask.

Despite wearing the exact same outfit, the two combatants couldn’t be any more different. Lex is bald, while Lionel has long flowing hair and beard, purposefully kept so as to no doubt rub it in his son’s face. Lex is young, while Lionel is middle-aged. Lionel is right handed, while Lex is left-handed. And their forms illustrate their vastly different personalities – Lionel is all about control, precise and minimal movements, while Lex is more open, attacking fiercely and more prone to taking risks, which at times leaves him vulnerable.

Lionel ducks Lex’s swing and rolls himself across the pool table. As they face each other on either side of the purple-felt covered table, Lionel lectures his son.

“Look at your moves, Lex. They’re rash, with no thought to their consequences.”

“If I wanted a running commentary, I’d buy one of your audiobooks.”

Lionel chuckles as he slowly advances. “You know what your problem is?”

Lex opens his arms. “Enlighten me,” he says mockingly.

“You’re ruled by your emotions. You always have been.”

With that, Lionel attacks and forces Lex to overextend himself, allowing him to then finish the match by holding his sabre to Lex’s throat.

“And that can be a fatal flaw.”

Continuing to hold the sabre at Lex’s throat, Lionel advances, forcing Lex to back up until he falls backwards onto a chair.

He orders, “I want those workers gone by noon tomorrow.” Tapping Lex twice on the chest with the sabre, he says condescendingly, “Meeting adjourned,” before turning and striding out of the office.

Lex gets up, frustrated and breathing hard. He just barely manages to not throw his sabre at the wall.

***

That evening finds Clara in the loft, dressed in her uniform for the pep rally. She looks in the full-length mirror and tries once more to somehow cover more skin with the existing material, to no avail. In the end, she again resorts to tugging her skirt down as far as it will go, which bares her midsection from a couple of inches above her bellybutton to her hip bone, but at least her skirt goes down far enough that it does more than just cover her butt. With her bared midriff hidden by the matching button-up sweater, she reassures herself that Pete had just been joking about how indecent she’d looked.

“At least I can’t feel the cold,” she mutters to herself.

Martha walks up the stairs of the loft. “Heading out to the pep rally?”

“Yeah,” she answers, and waits until her mother gets to the top before extending her arms in presentation. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” Martha says softly. “As full of Smallville spirit as your father.”

Clara sighs. “You don’t have to do this, mom.”

“Do what?”

“Play the Kent family peacekeeper.”

Martha straightens up Clara’s sweater. “Well, if the two of you weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t have to.”

She jerks away. “So you’re taking dad’s side?”

“No, Clara, I’m not. I told him he’s being unreasonable.”

She looks at her mother with relief. “Thanks.”

“Well, I’m not saying you’re entirely innocent here either,” Martha adds. “You should have gone about this a better way, I know you know that.”

Clara throws her hands up in frustration. “I had no choice! He was being impossible!”

She shakes her head. “There’s always a choice, Clara.”

When Clara refuses to meet her gaze, Martha touches her daughter’s jaw. “Sweetheart, if you want to make your own decisions, you need to be prepared to live with your mistakes.”

Clara huffs. “For the last time, it’s just cheerleading, mom,” she once again points out, doing her best to keep her voice even. “Besides, you trust me, don’t you?”

She sighs. “I do, Clara. And so does your dad. Just… give him a chance.”

***

A large bonfire is already set up by the time she arrives at the pep rally. Quite a crowd turns up for the event, and Clara happily joins her fellow cheerleaders in front of the bonfire to lead the cheer. Surrounded by her fellow students and the denizens of Smallville, for the first time in her life, Clara feels like she belongs rather than just being an outcast loser.

Knowing that, _feeling_ that, makes it easier for her to keep repeating the phrase, “Come on, Crows, let’s go!” while making the same repetitive and frankly ridiculous movements with her arms.

She can almost understand why Lana quit cheerleading.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Clara and Pete, while most everyone is busy at the bonfire, Chloe goes to meet with Trevor. She wants a confession on the record, and considering how coach Walt was abusing him and the incriminating photos she has, she figures Trevor will be the easiest to convince.

Trevor is fidgeting when she joins him in the tunnel leading from the locker room to the football field. He’s clearly anxious and keeps looking around, as though afraid they’re being spied on.

“Why did you call me? What do you want?”

Chloe doesn’t beat around the bush. “I want to know if Coach Walt supplied the players with the test.”

Trevor looks panicked. “Look, if you don’t want to get hurt, just leave us alone.”

“You can talk to me now or later. Either way, this picture’s going to be on the front page tomorrow,” Chloe tells him as she shows him one of the photos she took, of the disgraced football players and coach Walt, surrounded by the inexplicable fire from the sprinklers.

He takes a deep breath before glaring at her. “Just leave me alone.”

Unfortunately for the both of them, coach Walt witnesses the meeting. He follows Trevor and finds out from him that Chloe has photographic proof of their meeting the night before. Unwilling to let some nosy kid jeopardize his legacy, as he’s previously done for his attack on Principal Kwan, Coach Walt closes his eyes and summons fire.

Chloe is busy working on the layout of the front page, putting the damning photo below the headline ‘Playing with Fire,’ when her computer suddenly bursts into flames. It quickly spreads until her whole desk is set ablaze. As she backs away, a trail of flames quickly follows her across the room, forcing her to lean back against the window. Fumbling, she gets it open and desperately tries to signal for help.

Thankfully for her, Pete had noticed she isn’t anywhere to be seen, and so both he and Clara have been looking around, trying to find her. To her relief, Clara sees her frantically waving at her and calling her name, and the glow of the fire behind her.

“Chloe!” she cries out in alarm before sprinting into the building.

Successfully having caught Clara’s attention, Chloe looks around the room for an escape route. Seeing that the fire is only around her and her desk, she takes off her jacket and drapes it over her head, hoping to shield her bare skin. Taking a deep breath and grasping onto the inner lining of her jacket tightly, she jumps through the flames and lands on the other side of her desk. Quickly ditching her jacket as it’s now also on fire, she then tries to run out the door to make her escape, except the flames suddenly appear in front of the door, blocking her way.

“Oh god!” she gasps, as the fire surrounds her and moves ever closer to her, leaving her with no way out.

Clara, meanwhile, is zipping through the hallway as fast as she can towards the _Torch_ office.

“Chloe!” she yells as she nears the office door, and her shout startles coach Walt, breaking his concentration and causing the fire to immediately die down.

She storms into the room. “Chloe! You okay?”

“Clara!” Chloe squeals with relief and throws herself at her best friend.

Clara desperately hugs her back.

***

The fire thankfully does little structural damage to the _Torch_ office. The filing cabinets, other desks and their computers are virtually unaffected, with only the loose sheaf of papers that had been left out burned – like the previous issues that had been laying on desks or their ongoing projects. The biggest casualty, however, is Chloe’s computer and desk, both of which are clearly unsalvageable.

“The _Torch_ torched. How’s that for dramatic irony?” Clara quips.

Chloe glares at her.

She shrugs. “What? I’m just trying to get you to smile.”

“This was more than just arson, Clara,” she says firmly. “It’s like the fire knew what I was doing.”

“And you believe coach Walt was somehow controlling it?” Clara can’t help but sound a little skeptical.

“Look at the facts. Principal Kwan launches an investigation into the cheating scandal, only to nearly be fried in his car. One of his players comes forward saying coach Walt’s the one who supplied them with the test paper, and then they’re threatened with pyrotechnic sprinklers. I’m about to print that picture and the _Torch_ goes up in flames.”

Clara shakes her head. “What, now you think he’s behind the cheating scandal? Come on, Chloe.” She might not think coach Walt walks on water like most of Smallville, but she can’t see what he’d be getting out of putting his career in jeopardy like that.

“Coach obsessed with winning his 200th game helps bonehead players pass the test so he can secure his position in the pantheon of high school sports.”

Clara pauses. That actually doesn’t sound so implausible.

“Do you have another copy of the photo?”

Chloe gestures at the mangled computer and says dryly, “No, it’s kinda hard to recover the files.”

Clara bites her lip. “Then you don’t have any proof.”

“Trevor Chapell,” Chloe volunteers.

“What about him?”

She starts to pace. “I’m sure he’s the one who talked to Kwan about the cheating. He wants to talk, I know it. But he’s too scared to talk to me. Maybe he’ll open up to a fellow football player.”

Clara nods. “I’ll go find Pete.”

“And I’ll try and see what I can salvage,” Chloe says tiredly, mournfully staring at the remnants of her desk.

***

Unable to focus after Lionel’s visit, Lex heads into town with a stack of folders full of personnel files. If he hopes to run into Clara, then that’s no one else’s business but his own. He hasn’t seen her since he gave her the tickets to see the Metropolis Sharks, and he’d been surprised – though he really shouldn’t have been – when she’d given the tickets away anonymously to the quarterback and his little cheerleader girlfriend.

Considering he’s the only one in this town who could’ve possibly gotten the tickets to the skybox, thereby making it patently obvious who might’ve then given them away to the duo, the fact that neither of them have offered any show of gratitude to him – or to Clara – only tells Lex how stupid they both are.

Or perhaps he’s being overly harsh. They are just teenagers, after all, only concerned with the minutiae of their boring and pathetic lives. The only exception being Clara, of course – despite being just a freshman in high school, he can see there’s far more to her than that. And the fact that the male population of Smallville High seems to prefer someone like Lana to a genuine gem like Clara boggles his mind.

Lana is certainly pretty, and there’s this vulnerability that hangs about her that Lex figures is attractive to a small town quarterback, but Clara is stunning. Her startlingly blue eyes, long dark wavy hair, and striking features wouldn’t be out of place in any magazine. But more than that, there’s a well of inner strength and genuine goodness about her that, even in ill-fitting clothes, makes Clara incandescent. To someone like Lex, who’s used to people who are only interested in him for what he can do for them, Clara’s attitude is refreshing. And attractive.

Clara Kent is honestly wasted in this backwater town.

The Main Street of Smallville boasts very little in the way of entertainment, and the only place that seems somewhat tolerable is a coffee shop called the Beanery. Having heard Clara speak of it, Lex parks his car in front of the building and heads inside. He claims a seat at the back where he’ll have a relatively good view of the front door.

He sighs as he rifles through the papers in a folder, not looking forward to what he would have to do. Not long after he’s been at it, Lana comes over to take his order. Unwilling to interrupt what looks like important work, she hangs back a little and remains silent, though smiling a little awkwardly as she waits. When Lex looks up, he’s taken aback on seeing her. Closing the file he’s been reading, he smiles.

“You must be Lana, Clara’s friend. I’m Lex Luthor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“We’ve already met,” she informs him.

Lex tilts his head. “I seriously doubt I’d forget meeting you,” he says charmingly.

“You were a little preoccupied at the time,” Lana says rather flatly.

He leans back into his seat. “I get the feeling I didn’t make a great first impression.”

“When I was 10, I went to Metropolis for a riding competition. Your father invited us to stay over. My aunt said you had an indoor pool, and when I went to check it out, I found you and a girl skinny-dipping. I think you were teaching her the breast stroke.”

Lex has the grace to look a little embarrassed. “That was you? Wow.” Clearing his throat, he quickly looks around for a change of topic. Seeing the green apron, he quips, “Did Nell put you out on the street?”

“Actually, I decided to join the workforce,” Lana says rather proudly.

“Good for you. I’m sure you’ll be employee of the month in no time,” he responds with a bland smile.

She winces. “Right now, I hold the record for most dishes broken in a single day.”

Lex’s lips twitch in amusement. “Better bring my cappuccino in a Styrofoam cup, then.”

As Lana turns away to get his order, Clara enters the Beanery.

“Well, if it isn’t Smallville’s newest head cheerleader. I heard you were amazing,” Lana gushes.

Lex looks up and does a double take when he sees Clara in her cheerleading outfit. It’s a good thing he’s only just ordered, he thinks, as otherwise he’s sure he would have snorted or sprayed his drink all over the place. He does his best to look away from Clara, though it’s difficult when she seems the fulfillment of every fantasy he’s had as a teenager.

Clara shoots Lana a pleased smile. “Let’s see how I do tomorrow night first. How are you doing?”

“Today is one of those days I just want to scream,” Lana says wearily, though she tries to smile through it.

Clara gives her a look of sympathy. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s cool you got this job.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I’m not gonna get to see you cheer tomorrow. New girl gets the worst shifts.” Lana pulls out a pad. “So, can I get you anything?”

Lana had mixed up their order the last time, bringing them mochas rather than regular coffees, but both she and Pete had felt too sorry for Lana to complain, even if what they’d had sips of had tasted nothing like a mocha. Clara tries to think of a drink that Lana will screw up the least.

“Uh, maybe a cup of coffee,” she tries again. She figures it’s still the safest thing to order.

“Coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

As Lana walks away, Clara sees Lex and heads over to join him.

“Rumor has it Clara Kent joined the cheerleading squad,” he says teasingly.

“Rumor’s true,” she replies with a smile, gesturing at her outfit, before sitting down across from Lex. The uniform skirt rides up even more, and Clara fidgets as she tries to tug it down.

Lex forces himself to not stare at her long, shapely legs, or the patch of tanned skin that’s bared by her hip. He clears his throat. “Congratulations, by the way. Although I’m surprised your dad let you out of the house wearing that.”

Clara blushes. “It’s not so bad if I’m standing,” she points out, before sighing. “And my dad did freak out but not because of the outfit. He told me I couldn’t join the cheerleading squad. He’s being unreasonable and ridiculous. I mean, he claims I should make my own decisions, but then when I do he shuts me down!”

He nods knowingly. “Ah, and so you’re out late, waiting for him to go to bed, so you could avoid the uncomfortable silence that greets you when you get home.”

She bites her lip. “How did you know?”

“Luthors wrote the book on uncomfortable silences,” he says with an understanding smile, and she echoes it.

Seeing the piles of folders on the table, Clara asks, “What are you working on?”

Lex groans. “Trying to figure out which poor bastard should get the ax. My father wants me to cut 20% of my workforce.”

Clara frowns in concern. “Any way around it?”

“Once my father’s made his mind up, he’s not easy to turn around.”

Lana appears from behind them and puts the drinks down on the table. “If it makes you guys feel any better, you should have seen the look on my aunt’s face when I took this job. Not that I was eavesdropping or anything,” she adds as she sits on the arm of Clara’s chair.

Lex’s drink is in a tall glass mug with layers of whipped cream on top and with a bendy straw sticking out of it. He can’t quite mask his incredulous expression fast enough, causing Clara to stifle her laughter.

After a beat, Clara manages to get herself under control and says instead, “I guess we’re all in the same boat.”

“No, no. You both stood your ground and are doing what you want. I caved.” He lifts his mug in a salute. “You two have inspired me.”

Clara rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, joining the cheerleading squad and pouring coffees. We’re a couple of real rebels.”

“Long live the revolution,” Lana agrees with a smile.

“Cheers,” Lex says before sipping his drink, getting whipped cream on top of his nose and lips, which he hurriedly wipes off. He unfortunately misses a bit of it on his upper lip, and Clara resists the urge to wipe it off herself; instead, she gestures slightly, and Lex’s tongue flickers out as he licks it off.

Clara knows she’s blushing, and to hide it, she looks down and grabs her coffee mug. When she lifts it up, she sees that it neither looks like nor smells like a regular coffee, and so refrains from taking a sip.

“How is it?” Lana asks, obviously anxious.

“It’s perfect,” Lex lies, and not all that convincingly. But Lana appears to believe him as she shoots them a relieved smile before heading back to the front.

Clara waits until she’s gone before turning to Lex. “Is that what you ordered?”

“Not even close,” he says dryly, and they share a laugh.

“How late are planning to stay out?” he asks, abandoning his drink on the table.

Clara shrugs and is about to say another hour or so, but seeing the stack of files, she changes her mind. The last thing she wants is to make Lex put off his work to entertain her.

“I should probably go home soon, actually,” she says instead. “Don’t want to be grounded.”

She inwardly winces. She can’t believe she’s displaying her age and lack of coolness to Lex, the very epitome of sophistication.

Lex thankfully doesn’t point out her utter lameness and instead asks, “Want a ride home?”

Clara hesitates. She wants to say yes, if only to spend more time with him, but she also doesn’t want to be a burden. In the end, her desire for his company wins out. “If you have the time-”

Lex stands up and starts to gather the files. “It’s on the way.”

It’s not, actually – the Luthor Mansion is in the opposite direction of the Kent Farm from the Beanery – but she gratefully nods anyway. “That’d be great, Lex. Thanks.”

As Clara relaxes into the leather seat and the high performance engine roars to life beneath her, she desperately hopes her parents have already gone to bed.

***

It’s not until the day of the football game that Pete finally succeeds in tracking down Trevor and getting the full story out of him. He paces in front of Chloe and Clara in the _Torch_ office as he tells them what he’s discovered.

“You were right, Chloe. Trevor told me everything.” He shakes his head. “Can’t believe that bastard’s been getting away with this for so long.”

“Tell me,” Chloe demands somewhat impatiently.

“Apparently, coach Walt beats the players if they make mistakes or don’t perform to the standard he expects, and threatens to throw them off the team and refuse to help them pass their classes if they tell anyone. And he _did_ give them the math midterm. But the most freaky thing? Trevor’s arm has a burn on it in the shape of a hand. My guess? It’ll be an exact match to coach Walt’s handprint. Dude’s terrified that coach is going to be fry him if he talks, and after seeing that, I can’t say that won’t happen.”

They exchange disturbed glances.

“So what now?” Pete asks. “If he can start fires with his mind or whatever, we can’t exactly confront him.”

“And there’s still no proof beyond Trevor’s word and his arm, and you said it yourself, he’s not going to come forward,” Clara points out. “I think we should wait until the game is over. Maybe after, with the pressure lessened, either Trevor or the other players will be more willing to speak up.”

“And if they don’t?” Chloe challenges.

“Then we can try and trap coach Walt or something, and expose him somehow in front of enough people that it can’t be swept under the rug.”

Chloe reluctantly nods.

Obviously Clara isn’t going to wait that long, but she can’t exactly say that to Chloe or Pete. She makes up an excuse saying she has to go and pick up her uniform from home, but heads instead for coach Walt’s office. She has to make this quick before the football players enter the locker room to get ready for the game.

She sees him in his personal sauna, which, according to the gold plaque by the door, is a gift to him from the Smallville High Alumni Association for his 20 years of coaching the Crows. It’s no wonder the man thinks he can do whatever he wants and get away with it if this is the kind of perk he receives.

After x-raying the sauna to make sure he’s not naked, she unceremoniously opens the sauna door.

“Kent? What are you doing here?” he demands.

“You aren’t walking out onto that field.”

Coach Walt growls. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but you do not want to tick me off right now.”

The moment Clara takes a step forward, she starts to feel the unfortunately familiar sensation of pain induced by the meteor rocks, and when she takes a quick look, she sees that the heated rocks are actually giving off the familiar green glow. As the veins of her hand bulge, she backs away from the door.

“I know what you did to Trevor’s arm.”

He snarls. “Trevor should’ve kept his mouth shut!”

To Clara’s relief, coach Walt stands up and gets out of the sauna, following her.

The smile on his face makes it clear he thinks she’s done for, but Clara is far enough away from the meteor rocks that she’s fine. So when he tries to punch her, she blocks his fist with her palm and flings him away.

He grabs the nearest solid object – a fire extinguisher – and attempts to bash Clara with it, but she merely pulls it away from his grip before sending him flying through the glass wall of his office and into the boy’s locker room. His back hits a bench and he falls to the floor, clearly stunned.

Clara walks over as he struggles to sit up. “Coach, you need help.”

He gets up and backs away. “What I need is to win this game!”

“It’s too late for that.”

Coach Walt closes his eyes and concentrates, and the whole room bursts into flames. Clara looks around, unimpressed, and as the flames engulf her, she walks right through them, completely unharmed.

He shoots her a look of incredulity mixed with fear. “How did you do that?”

“It’s in the genes,” she says dryly. As she takes off her burning jacket, she inwardly winces. This is the third jacket she’s ruined in the last few weeks – her parents are going to kill her.

He takes another swing at her but she dodges it and sends him flying into the wall of the shower room.

“Give it up, Coach! You’ve lost!”

Clearly furious and frustrated, he screams. Whether it’s because he’s blinded by his anger or because he can’t control his powers, Clara isn’t sure, but as he roars in fury, fire rains down on him from all the showerheads.

“NOOOOO!” he screams as he is engulfed in a huge inferno. Clara takes a deep breath and blows it over him, hoping to use her arctic breath to put out the fire.

It’s the first time she’s deliberately used it, but she thankfully succeeds. When the fire goes out, she rushes over to the coach’s body to feel for a pulse. A breath whooshes out of her in relief when she feels it, even if it is weak. She speeds into his office and calls 911.

“911 emergency.”

“Coach Walt is hurt. The shower room was on fire and he was trapped inside. I used the fire extinguisher to put it out but he’s unconscious. He still has a pulse and is breathing,” she informs the dispatch.

After relaying the relevant information, she hangs up and quickly grabs the fire extinguisher. Clara then proceeds to spray both the coach’s body and the walls and everywhere else her arctic breath has reached.

It doesn’t take long before she’s joined by the staff, and soon after, the EMTs.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she gets asked more than once. When she tells them that she heard a horrific scream and rushed into the boy’s locker room and saw the fire with a person trapped inside, a few of the faculty members – and not a few students – also mention how they thought they too had heard a scream. Clara is congratulated for her quick action, which they assure her is what saved coach Walt’s life.

“You did a great job, Clara,” she’s told.

They can’t figure out how the fire got started in the showers, and eventually blame it on faulty wiring. The football players who had witnessed coach Walt seemingly able to conjure flames out of thin air remain silent.

***

Even though coach Walt is rushed to the hospital, the game must go on. The assistant coach has the plays and takes his place, and the players on the football team vow to win the game for coach Walt. If some of them are secretly glad that he and his temper won’t be around, they don’t mention it.

Once the hubbub dies down – more or less – Clara goes to find coach Barbara. When she approaches, coach Barbara has a resigned look on her face, and she doesn’t protest when Clara informs her she won’t be joining the cheerleading squad after all. Clara guesses she thinks she’s too traumatized by what happened to cheer, and doesn’t say anything to alter that impression. As much as Clara wants to belong and be liked, in the end she wants it to happen because she’s being herself and doing what she loves rather than because she’s trying to be what everyone else wants or expects her to be.

She wants to make sure she’s doing things for the right reasons, and not just because she can.

Clara still savors trying on the uniform one last time though before she takes it off for good and leaves it behind in the girl’s locker room.

“Were you here to make sure I didn’t give myself away?” she asks Jonathan after her parents have been sufficiently reassured that she’s unharmed. Martha quickly makes herself scarce so as to give the two of them the space to work things out.

He stops and determinedly meets her eyes. “I was here to support my daughter.”

Clara looks away, and the relief she feels causes her to tear up.

“Honey, I do trust you, but there’s always gonna be a part of me that’s a little afraid for you. But that’s just being a parent.”

“Thanks, dad,” she says, sniffling, and Jonathan tugs her into a warm hug.

“Clara, I just heard about what happened, are you okay?” Lana asks in concern as she hurries up to them.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Weren’t you working tonight?”

Lana sighs. “I got let go. Apparently I’m not waitress material.”

Clara is honestly not surprised, but she knows better than to say that. “Sorry. How did your aunt take it?”

“She said that it was a sign that I should seriously reconsider cheerleading,” Lana says wryly.

Clara shoots her father a knowing smile. “Parents. What are you gonna do?”

Jonathan laughs.

***

The next issue of _Smallville Ledger_ , the local newspaper, carries the sad news that coach Walt Arnold unfortunately passed away while being treated at the hospital. There’s only a single line mentioning the bravery of a quick acting student’s heroic rescue of coach Walt, as most of the article is dedicated to his “exemplary” career as well as the Crows, who had won the game despite the setback and is now heading for the State Championships. There’s even a quote from Fordman talking about how they’ll be dedicating their Championship game to coach Walt.

Lex puts the newspaper down when Lionel walks into his office, holding a file in his hands.

He stands up and walks up to Lionel. “Two trips in one week. I’m flattered, dad,” he says dryly.

“What is this?” Lionel asks, holding the file up.

“It’s my new proposal. I worked out how to cut the operation budget by 20% without losing a single job,” he says proudly.

“Lex. I specifically told you to cut your workforce,” Lionel says, flipping through the proposal.

“Why? With this plan, you don’t get the bad PR,” he points out, and looks at his father as though the man’s confused.

Lionel closes the file. “That’s not the point.”

“Careful dad, you’re getting emotional.” Lex reaches out and picks up a sabre. “We could always try a rematch – or are you afraid you can’t take your son again?”

He smirks. “You get one.”

“One what?”

“One chance to defy me.”

Lex chuckles. “I can’t figure out what you hate more – the fact that my plan works, or that you didn’t come up with it first.”

“Just remember, empires aren’t built on clever bookkeeping.”

“Dad. You have no idea what I’m capable of.” His expression is serious and almost intimidating, and Lex can see that he’s managed to surprise his father.

His lips almost twitch into a smirk.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex gets falsely accused of robbery and assault, and gets blackmailed as Clara discovers yet another new power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry this chapter took awhile, but I kept rearranging chapter orders and going back and forth on what the next event should be and just generally kept being dissatisfied with how it turned out. This is my least favorite chapter to date, but I've rewritten and altered and generally futzed with it for days now and I have a feeling it won't get any better even if I hold it off for longer, so I'm posting it. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think! Hope you like it!

Chapter Four

After living in Smallville for a couple of months, the presence of Lex Luthor along its Main Street is no longer such a strange sight that his appearance largely goes unmarked by the populace. Of course, if Clara had seen him, she would’ve found it strange that he’s shouldering a red backpack of all things over his suit, or that he’s walking with no sign of a fancy car with personalized license plate parked on the street. But she isn’t, and so he is able to enter Smallville Savings & Loan with nary a quizzical glance aimed in his direction.

The manager, having spotted their most wealthy client, quickly hangs up the phone and gets up from his desk. Buttoning up his suit jacket, he hurries out to meet him.

Hand outstretched and with an ingratiating smile on his face, he greets him. “Mr. Luthor! What can I do for you today?”

Lex takes his hand with both of his – another odd sign – before saying, “I want to close all my accounts.”

The manager fights to maintain his smile. “May I ask why?”

“Is there a problem?” Lex asks pointedly.

His mouth gapes open a little before he hurriedly replies, “No! No, no, no, of course not. It’s… it’s just the Luthors have been banking here for 12 years. It’s quite a shock.” He doesn’t say anything further – he knows better than to cross a Luthor.

Lex smiles widely – an expression that doesn’t seem quite right on his face – before saying, “I’d like it all in cash.”

The manager forces himself to smile back. “We’ll do our best.”

When Lex nods, the manager grabs the nearest pen and paper. “Can I get your signature?”

“Certainly.” In another bout of strangeness, Lex signs his name using his right hand. Smiling at the manager, he passes over the slip of paper.

When the manager goes to check the signature against the one in the file, however, he realizes the signatures don’t match. Lex Luthor’s signature from when he opened his account is full of sharp lines and no extra flourishes, while the one he’d just been given is all curves and illegible scribbles. Frowning, he turns back to the man and does a double take as he realizes he very clearly is Lex Luthor, even if the signatures don’t match.

Thankfully, there are policies in place for this exact scenario, and he relies on that in his confusion.

“Mr. Luthor,” he says as he approaches the counter, still holding the two differing signatures in his hands. “May I see your driver’s license, please?”

Lex swallows nervously before tapping his foot and leaning his hands against the counter. He briefly glances down before looking back up. “Why?”

The manager gulps, clearly feeling anxious at what he believes is impatience from Lex Luthor. He points to the paper slips in his hands. “Th- the signature doesn’t match our records. I- I just need to verify your ID.”

“I’m standing right here in front of you,” Lex bites out as he slides the backpack off his shoulder and onto the counter in front of him. “What more do you need?”

The manager fights to keep smiling. “I’m sorry, it’s bank policy.”

To his complete surprise, rather than his wallet or his ID, Lex pulls out a gun from the backpack.

“I need the money now,” he growls.

As the manager stares in horror at Lex and then the gun aimed at him, Lex tosses him the empty backpack.

“Fill the bag,” he orders. There’s a feminine voice overlapping with Lex’s, but the manager doesn’t register it in his fear.

With the backpack full of stolen cash, Lex tears out of Smallville Savings & Loan as an alarm rings out from behind him. He turns left and runs along the street, the gun still clutched in his right hand. The sight of a running Lex is bizarre enough that the denizens of Smallville stare at him, and it quickly turns into horror as they see the gun.

As people scream and hurriedly get out of the way, Clara, who’d just arrived after school for a bout of window-shopping for her parents’ wedding anniversary, notices the commotion. She looks up only to see Lex sprinting in her direction. He bowls over a woman in the process without even stopping to ask if she’s all right.

“Lex, what’s going on?” Clara asks, holding Lex’s arms and forcing him to stop.

To her surprise, Lex looks angry rather than happy to see her.

“Get out of the way!” he bites out before tossing Clara through a nearby store window.

Despite knowing she’s nigh on invulnerable, she can’t help but cringe as she crashes through the window and the stands of displayed glasses and sunglasses before landing on her back among the shards of glass. She of course doesn’t feel any physical pain, but she can’t help the pang of hurt over Lex’s actions, before it hits her that Lex would never hurt her this way, and that isn’t just her crush talking.

She looks out the now glass-free storefront, and the bizarre sight of Lex with a red backpack over his left shoulder and a gun in his right hand makes it clear there’s something not quite right, as she knows for a fact that he’s left handed. Believing Lex is being coerced somehow, she automatically uses her x-ray vision on him, to see if there’s a wire or a bomb attached somewhere to Lex that’s making him act so out of character.

Clara doesn’t see anything of the sort. Instead, she spots an eerie green glow all throughout Lex’s skeleton, and the sight is strange enough to throw her for a loop. That’s not Lex she’s looking at – she distinctly remembers that his spine and ribs all looked perfectly normal when she was x-raying his chest while doing CPR, and completely unlike the skeleton of this imposter in front of her.

When the fake Lex runs off, as much as Clara wants to give chase, she knows she can’t. There’s no way a normal human being, let alone a girl, would be able to easily run after having been tossed through a storefront window. Instead, she hurriedly brushes off the shards of glass still on her person and pretends to be in pain but mostly okay when enquiries come her way.

***

After reluctantly giving her statement to the sheriff’s office agreeing with the bystanders that the man who’d assaulted her had indeed looked like Lex Luthor, Clara calls Lex’s cell phone – which unfortunately goes straight to voicemail – before trying the mansion. Mrs. Palmer, who answers the phone, informs her Lex is away on a business trip to Metropolis, which has Clara breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks Mrs. Palmer,” Clara says, before hanging up the phone.

“What did she say?” Martha asks as she brings over the last dinner plate to the table.

“Lex is away on a business trip to Metropolis. So it couldn’t have been him,” she answers triumphantly.

Jonathan shakes his head. “That doesn’t mean anything, Clara. He could have just told his staff that to cover his tracks.”

Clara frowns. “Lex didn’t do this, dad. I know he didn’t. His skeleton looked normal; this imposter’s, whoever it is, looked all weird.”

It’s clear her parents don’t believe her. Her father, seeing as he’s never had all that great an opinion of Lex in the first place, has no trouble casting him as a villain, but Clara is disappointed in her mother. She’d thought Martha wouldn’t judge him by his last name and would give him the benefit of the doubt, or at least trust her judgment; that she doesn’t hurts and leaves a terrible taste of disappointment in her mouth.

Clara opens her mouth to argue, but her parents make a concerted effort to keep the dinner conversation away from the elephant in the room and on far more pleasant topics. She wants to be stubborn and dig her heels in, but since they’re not forcing her to stay away from Lex for the foreseeable future, Clara decides to reluctantly follow their lead. She stiltedly answers their questions about school and her friends’ lives, and while she doesn’t really contribute much to their awkward dinner conversation, it’s enough to keep the peace for the duration of the meal.

Unfortunately, Lex’s imposter hadn’t just assaulted Clara. The _Smallville Ledger_ ’s front-page headline the next morning blares ‘Lex Luthor Robs Bank,’ accompanied by a still from the bank security footage. In the photo, Lex’s imposter – who does genuinely look exactly like Lex – is dressed in a suit, carrying a red backpack, and aiming a gun at someone not in frame.

Clara, having opted to complete her chores first thing that morning, enters the kitchen only to see Jonathan and Martha, having already finished their breakfasts, reading the morning paper. Seeing the photo, Clara frowns.

“This is incredible. Why would Lex Luthor need to rob a bank?” Martha asks.

Jonathan gets up from beside her to pour himself some more coffee.

“I’ve seen some strange things in my day, but this definitely takes the cake,” he says. When he turns back around and sees Clara getting the milk from the fridge for her cereal, he corrects himself. “Well, almost.”

Clara attempts to smile back.

“He got away with $100,000,” Martha informs them.

Clara just barely refrains from forcefully placing the milk bottle on the table and breaking both it and the table in half.

“I know Lex. It wasn’t him,” she says for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Sweetheart, I know that he’s a friend of yours-” and Jonathan even manages to say that without too much of a pause- “but come on. You saw him with your own eyes.”

She shakes her head. “There has to be some kind of a reasonable explanation for this, dad. Lex didn’t do this.”

“I hope so, Clara,” Martha replies with a soft conciliatory smile as she puts down the paper.

“Me too,” Lex says, startling all three Kents who quickly turn around to see him on the back porch, standing behind the closed screen door. “I hate to think I have an evil twin.”

Jonathan is clearly displeased to see him. Martha, looking a little worried, says, “Lex, we didn’t hear you pull up.”

“May I come in?” Lex asks as he opens the screen door. “I promise I’m not packing heat,” he adds a little sarcastically, spreading his arms wide as he walks towards them.

Clara focuses her eyes, activating her x-ray vision. Seeing a normal skeleton without any green glow confirms what she’d known all along – Lex hadn’t been behind the assault or the robbery.

“Clara, you okay?” Lex asks, his brows furrowed in concern.

Realizing that she’s just staring at him, she tries to smile. “I’m fine, just spacing out a little.”

Martha clears her throat. “So not that we’re not glad to see you, Lex, but…”

“Why aren’t you in jail?” Jonathan bluntly asks when Martha falters.

“Because I was hosting a reception for 200 fertilizer distributors in Metropolis at the time of the robbery.”

Even as Jonathan and Martha look surprised, Clara’s relief – for him, not at finding out that he’s innocent – is nearly palpable. Knowing that Clara had believed in him despite the evidence suggesting otherwise – and had been willing to argue with her parents over it – touches Lex deeply.

“Do the police have any leads?” Jonathan asks.

“None. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Clara. Your name was on the witness list. Did you actually see this person?”

“Yeah, he looked just like you.”

Lex exhales sharply. “Except his fingerprints and signature didn’t match mine. You sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you?”

Clara shakes her head. “I swear that if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought it was you.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Martha asks.

“Well hopefully the money will turn up. In the meantime, the Metropolis tabloids will have a field day, and I’m sure certain people’s opinions of me will be cemented in stone.”

His glance at Jonathan doesn’t go unnoticed. Jonathan’s lips curl upwards in a facsimile of a smile.

“I gotta get to work,” he says, before putting down his empty coffee mug and heading out the door.

Once Jonathan leaves, Lex turns back to Clara. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks softly.

“I’m fine,” she says, before realizing how impossible that would be for a normal human and adds, “Just bruised and sore, but nothing too bad.”

As Martha walks past them to put the dirty dishes in the sink, Lex dares to touch Clara’s hand. “I’m sorry you got thrown through that window,” he says.

Clara just knows she’s blushing. Much as she’d like to, she doesn’t tangle her fingers with his. She reminds herself once again that he’s just being friendly and kind.

“It’s not your fault, Lex,” she reassures him. “It wasn’t you.”

Lex taps the back of her hand in an absentminded gesture before pulling his hand away. “I promise I’m not a criminal mastermind,” he adds with a rather self-deprecating smile.

Clara does reach over then and stops him from pulling away. She squeezes his hand comfortingly as she smiles back. “I know. A criminal mastermind would have worn a mask.”

Lex’s laughter sounds uninhibited and genuine, and he is clearly taken aback by his own response.

Clara smiles in satisfaction at having successfully changed his mood.

***

After Lex leaves, Martha decides it would be less suspicious if Clara stays home from school for the day. A human girl, after all, wouldn’t be able to walk about and continue her day-to-day activities without obvious signs of pain, something Clara won’t be able to consistently fake.

She calls the school on Clara’s behalf, and when the principal greets her by stating he’d been expecting her call, she finds herself incredibly relieved that Lex had stopped by the house. She doubts any of them would have thought to keep Clara at home for the day, and no doubt Clara then would have been bombarded by curious looks and questions as to how she’s able to move around okay.

Clara naturally doesn’t mind, and is more than eager to stay home and relax. Unwilling to subject herself to Chloe hounding her about what had happened, she calls Lana instead to ask if she can pick up any homework assignments for her and lend Clara her notes. When Lana happily agrees, Clara hangs up and decides to tackle a couple of the books on her reading list that she’d borrowed from the local library but which she hadn’t had a chance to read yet due to the craziness of the last few weeks. Reading books – whether novels or non-fiction doesn’t matter – has always been her favorite past time, and she’s definitely missed losing herself in a good book.

Between that and a large delicious lunch she gets to enjoy courtesy of her mother, Clara is in a great mood when Lana comes by.

“Knock knock,” Lana says from behind the screen door.

“Hello Lana, come in,” Martha greets, as she’s putting the last of the oatmeal and raisin cookie dough on a baking sheet.

“Hi Mrs. Kent, hi Clara. I bring with me a copy of the class notes and the homework that got assigned today,” she says, as she places the sheaf of papers on the kitchen table.

“Thanks Lana.”

Before Clara can surreptitiously back away from the accursed meteor rock necklace, Lana asks, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m doing better,” she replies, though she can’t quite hide her wince as Lana moves closer.

Lana gives her a look of concern. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Even as Clara shakes her head, Martha asks, “Will you be able to stay for a while, Lana?”

The trays of cookies that are being put into the oven sufficiently distract Lana, and Clara is at last able to move to the other side of the kitchen to get some breathing room.

Lana eyes the cookies enviously even as she responds, “Unfortunately not, Mrs. Kent. I promised Nell I would be home right after school.”

“Well, I can have Clara run over in a little bit to bring you some of these cookies if you’d like.”

When Lana looks as though she might object, Clara pipes up. “It’ll be fine. I think walking around might do me good, actually.”

Seeing that Clara does appear to be better after having moved, Lana brightens as she makes her way out the door.

“Thanks Mrs. Kent. See you later then, Clara!”

***

Unwilling to cower away and let what happened dictate his habits, Lex drives into town. He can’t bring himself to enter, let alone buy anything, from Fordman’s department store, and so he instead stops at Nell’s Bouquet to order a beautiful bouquet of flowers for Clara, which he asks to be delivered to the Kent home, before going into the Beanery to get himself a cup of coffee. He ignores the rude stares and the whispers, well used to dealing with such attentions as the Luthor heir as well as from his ostracized years at Excelsior Academy. It also helps that he has Clara in his corner, willing to stand up for him even against her parents.

As he heads back to his car, he sees a balding man in a cheap suit holding a green folder in his hands, leaning on his Aston Martin convertible.

Hiding his annoyance, Lex instead lets his lips curve into a not-so-nice smile. “May I help you?”

“Roger Nixon, _Metropolis Inquisitor_ ,” the man says, holding out his right hand.

Lex minutely pauses before ignoring the outstretched hand. “Get off my car.”

Nixon blatantly continues to lean against the car as he shows off the front page of the _Inquisitor_ , where a large picture of “Lex” from the robbery is featured prominently.

“That’s a hell of a picture, Lex,” he says, tapping it. “You know, it really boosted our sales.”

Lex doesn’t even deign to look at the paper. “I’ve read comic books with less fiction than your rag.”

“Well, how about this? Is this fiction?” Nixon asks, opening the green folder. “It’s your juvenile record. Fascinating reading. It must have taken a Brink’s truck of your dad’s money to keep all those people quiet.”

“Those records are sealed,” Lex states, rattled but refusing to show it.

“I’m a resourceful guy. You know, I saw this picture, and it got me thinking of doing a follow-up. _Lex Luthor’s Wild Youth in Metropolis_. Does the name Club Zero ring a bell?”

“You print one word about that and I’ll sue,” he retorts.

Not at all threatened by Lex, Nixon smugly smiles. “Lawsuits take years. The genie will be out of the bottle and all the people will know that the new and improved Lex Luthor is nothing but a façade.”

Lex chuckles but it’s not a happy sound. “You know what I think, Rog? If you wanted to print that, it would already be in the paper. I think you’re looking for a payoff.”

As he rounds the front of the car, Nixon corrects him. “It’s a business proposition. $100,000 and these records will disappear forever.”

Lex opens the door and gets in the driver’s seat. “I’d question your integrity, but you’re a journalist.”

Nixon straightens up and holds out a card as he starts the car.

“Your father really thinks he can hide you here forever? You got 24 hours and that’s just the front page.”

Despite feeling furious, nothing is visible. Lex simply takes the card before speeding away with a screech of tires.

***

As promised, Clara brings over a dozen oatmeal and raisin cookies, and even Nell eagerly takes some despite her dislike of Martha.

“Thank your mother for me,” she says with a tight smile before she goes back into the house.

“Of course.”

Lana looks at the container of warm cookies Clara’s holding enviously before sighing as she examines her dusty hands and the storage still full of boxes and assorted knickknacks.

“Well, that just gives me more of an incentive to get this all done as quickly as possible!”  

“So is this your punishment for quitting cheerleading?” Clara asks.

Lana smiles wryly. “Nell’s got clutter issues. I’m trying to help resolve them.”

“She still hasn’t forgiven you yet for quitting the squad?”

“Not yet,” she admits.

“She will, especially when she knows how much happier you are.” Clara looks down at the half-empty container in her hand. “I can bring more treats for you to bribe her with if that’ll help.”

Lana laughs. “I might just take you up on that.”

“Well, at least now you’ll have some more time for your unpopular friends,” comes a voice from behind them.

“Tina!” Lana greets with a smile. “And you’re not unpopular,” she belatedly argues.

At the incredulous looks from both Clara and Tina – if there’s someone who’s even more of an outcast than Clara, it’s Tina – Lana adds, “Besides, what happened to a girl who didn’t care what people thought of her?”

“She went to high school.”

Lana looks at her sympathetically. “At least your mom doesn’t try to run your life,” she says, hoping to cheer Tina up, before going to the back to pull out yet another box.

“You know, you’re lucky that Nell cares about you. I mean, if something were to happen to my mom, I don’t know anybody that would take me in. I’d probably be shipped off to a foster home or something.”

Clara shoots Tina an odd look, and even Lana appears taken aback.

“Thanks for that burst of cheer,” Lana says.

“Well, what do you want me to say? You have the perfect life.”

“No one has a perfect life, Tina,” Clara points out. Sure she’d thought so at one time, but after having gotten to know Lex and Lana, she’d realized that while there are people who have it better than others, and even some who on the surface seem to have it all, they don’t, not really.

“You want my life, Tina? You can have it,” Lana tells her with a sigh.

“I’d settle for the outfit,” Tina replies with a smile. She then has to go make things weird again by saying, “Wouldn’t it be cool if we were sisters? If anything happened to my mom, do you think Nell would adopt me?”

Clara can’t help but think that Tina’s gotten even weirder over the years. She’s always been obsessive about Lana, true, but this seems a little too out there, even for Tina. She can’t help the thought that Tina is more of an alien than Clara, an actual alien.

“Tina, nothing’s gonna happen to your mom,” Lana says, before shaking her head. “Anyway, I didn’t see you at school today. Is everything okay? You didn’t get thrown into a storefront window like Clara, did you?”

Tina’s smile is tight. “Everything’s fine. So why are you here, Clara?”

Lana’s eyes widen at the obvious rudeness, but Clara just shakes it off. “I brought over oatmeal and raisin cookies to thank Lana for bringing me stuff I missed today in school.”

Tina looks over at Lana, anger and betrayal clear on her face. “You brought over notes for her but not me?”

Lana frowns. “Clara called me before school and asked me if I could. You never called and asked me for them, so how would I have known to do so for you? What’s gotten into you, Tina?”

Deciding that it would be best if she left before she could cause any more problems, Clara places the container down on the bed of a red truck. “I’ll see you later, Lana.”

“Bye Clara. Thank your mom for me!”

Neither Clara nor Lana see the narrow-eyed glare that Tina shoots Clara.

***

Determined to find out who has that distinctive green glow to their skeleton, Clara tags along with Martha as she runs errands around town. As she sits in the cab of the family truck, she uses her x-ray vision to scan everyone around her. Feeling a headache blooming behind her eyes, she’s about to stop when she sees the exact same green patch pattern as before. She sits up straighter and when she blinks to return to her normal vision, she’s surprised to see that it’s Tina’s skeleton she’d just seen. Once Tina enters her mother’s antique store, Clara hurries out of the truck and heads over.

“Clara?” Martha says in surprise when she spots her. “Did you see-?”

Clara nods. “I think it’s Tina Greer. She just went into the antique store.”

“Tina?” Martha is clearly taken aback. “Are you sure?”

She doesn’t answer. “Don’t you need to go to the antique store, mom?” she instead asks.

Martha slowly nods and allows Clara to open the door for her. The bell above the door jingles as they enter.

“Hello?” Martha calls out.

Rose Greer comes out from the back. “Mrs. Kent. I- I mean Martha. How are you?”

Clara’s eyes narrow slightly. Although she only knows Tina’s mother superficially, she can’t help but think she seems a little nervous given the way she’s fidgeting. Clara wonders if she knows what her daughter has done.

“Good. How’s business?” Martha asks politely.

She boasts, “Couldn’t be better. I’m doing so many estate sales in Metropolis, I’m thinking of selling the place.”

“That would be a shame,” Martha says, looking around at all the items carefully arranged in the shop. “I thought you loved the store.”

“Not really. I never wanted this life, it just kind of happened.”

As Martha looks taken aback at such a frank admission, Clara chimes in.

“Is Tina around?”

“Uh, she’s at Lana’s. They’re inseparable these days,” Mrs. Greer says with a smile.

Clara wonders what lies Tina’s been telling her mother. “Really? Because I just saw her coming in here-”

“You must be seeing things,” she states flatly.

Realizing she isn’t going to get anywhere with that line of questioning, Clara backs off. “Mom?” she instead prompts. “Aren’t you here to pick up the lamp?”

“Lamp?” Mrs. Greer asks.

Martha looks at her quizzically. “The one you were restoring for Jonathan?”

She blinks, looking a little taken off guard, before smiling again. “Oh yes, silly me. It’s in the back.”

Once Mrs. Greer leaves the counter, Clara gets busy scanning the store using her x-ray vision. Considering how weird Mrs. Greer is acting and the odd line of questioning and comments Tina had made earlier, Clara isn’t that surprised when she sees not just the green patches on the skeleton of the person heading towards the back, but a human body, stuffed in an antique wardrobe with a broken neck. She never would have thought Tina capable of murdering her own mother. Guess that shows her how much she knows.

“Mom?” Clara calls out as she opens the wardrobe door, and the body of the real Mrs. Greer falls out.

Martha’s gasp is loud. “Oh my goodness!”

Just then, Tina-masquerading-as-Mrs.-Greer returns. “It’s not quite ready, it’s…” she trails off once she sees the dead body on the floor.

Martha’s eyes are wide and horrified, and she looks back and forth between the dead body of the real Mrs. Greer and the imposter who looks exactly like her standing in front of them.

“Mom, go call the police,” Clara instructs.

As Martha hurriedly runs out of the store, Tina hollers, “No!”

She lunges forward to stop Martha, only to find herself blocked by Clara. To Clara’s surprise, Tina’s strength is far stronger than she expects – she grabs Clara’s jacket and easily flings her away.

Tina reaches for a heavy metal statue. “You should have stayed out of my life, Clara,” she snarls before bashing her in the head with it.

To Tina’s surprise, the statue crumbles and Clara gets up, looking as though nothing of import has occurred. Tina quickly morphs her body until she looks like Lana, then runs out of the store. Clara tries to give immediate chase, but Martha hurries back in just then.

“Clara!” she calls out anxiously. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, mom,” she reassures her before she starts to look for Tina-as-Lana. Unfortunately she can’t see her anywhere. She switches to her x-ray vision to track her, but Tina’s nowhere to be seen.

“Where did she go?” Martha asks.

Clara shakes her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know. I can’t see her anywhere.”

***

Besides the body of Mrs. Greer, the police find a $5000 brick under an antique chest from Smallville Savings & Loan. A careful search of the Greer home results in the red backpack seen in the security footage filled with most of the remainder of the cash. Between the evidence and eyewitness testimony from Martha and Clara – who carefully omit any mention of Tina being able to morph her body – a BOLO for Tina is sent out, as Sheriff Ethan believes her to have fled Smallville by now.

Clara’s not sure about that, but she also knows there’ll be no way for the police to find Tina, not when she can morph her body to look like anyone else’s.

“Are you sure?” Jonathan asks.

Martha nods. “I know what I saw, Jonathan. She looked exactly like Rose Greer.”

“And she looked exactly like Lex and Lana too. The only reason I could tell the difference was because of the way her skeleton looked. It was all… weird, with green patches everywhere.”

“The weird skeleton is probably because Tina was born with soft bone disease,” Martha explains. “They had that poor girl on all those experimental drugs. Doctors didn’t believe she’d live to see first grade.”

Jonathan points out, “She did get better though, right around her third birthday.”

Clara’s eyes widen. “That was right after the meteor shower, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Jonathan trails off. “This is crazy, Clara. People can’t just change their appearances at will-”

“Considering the powers we’ve already seen, is it so out of the question?” she argues. Before her parents could say anything, Clara mentions, “And Tina was strong, dad, really strong. Whatever the meteors did to give her the ability to change her appearance, it gave her strength too.”

“What do you think Tina’s doing?” Martha asks.

“I have no idea. All I know about Tina is that she idolizes Lana and is obsessed with her.”

“Should we tell the police?”

Clara frowns before shaking her head. “They won’t be able to do anything. Tina can turn into whoever she wants, and I’m the only one who can tell the difference.”

Martha and Jonathan exchange worried looks.

***

At school the next day, all anyone can talk about is creepy Tina and how they’d known all along she was bad news. The only exception is Lana, who refuses to believe that Tina killed her mother or that she robbed the bank and framed Lex Luthor for it.

“I saw it with my own eyes, Lana,” Clara says gently, braving the meteor rock necklace to warn her.

Lana sighs. “I’ve known Tina for years, Clara. Longer – and better – than I’ve known you.   There has to be an explanation for this.”

She feels a pang of sympathy for Lana, hearing the same defense that she’d made for Lex to her parents. The only difference being Lex is innocent while Tina really is guilty. She blushingly thinks of the beautiful bouquet of flowers that Lex had delivered to the house, which she’d put on her nightstand before her father could object.

Unable to stand there any longer, Clara turns to leave and adds, “Maybe we just don’t know people as well as we think we do.”

Leaving troubled-looking Lana behind, Clara heads off to track down Chloe. She breathes a silent sigh of relief when the pain and weakness disappears.

Surprisingly, however, the blonde refuses to even listen to her, claiming she’s busy with another important task. Clara’s not sure what could possibly be more important to Chloe than another freaky Smallville incident, but when her attempt to elaborate only gets her kicked out of the _Torch_ office, she doesn’t bother trying to argue again. Instead, she leaves Chloe to her digging through the _Torch_ archives and enlists Pete for assistance.

“So you’re telling me Tina Greer can bend her bones like a contortionist and become anybody she wants?” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, this is usually Chloe’s territory. She’s the friend who does the tales of the unexplained. So why don’t you give her a call?”

“I did. She said she was busy with something else.”

Pete looks taken aback. “You realize that’s like getting turned down by the _National Enquirer_?”

Clara sighs. “Tell me again why we’re friends?”

“Because even when I think you’re crazy, I show up ready to rumble. And speaking of rumble, what makes you think Tina is still around Smallville?”

“I don’t know. A hunch?”

The antique store still has the yellow caution tape around it, although the sheriff’s office doesn’t have anyone watching the store. She and Pete enter through the back entrance.

Pete purses his lips. “Alright. So what now?”

“Now we look for clues.”

He eyes the mess the police have left behind. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

“C’mon, Pete. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”

He sighs but readily follows her as she heads upstairs.

***

“There’s nothing here,” Pete comments after they’ve gone through everything. “No wonder the cops took off.”

Clara sighs and tries to think. “We know she’s obsessed with Lana. In fact, she was asking Lana yesterday whether Nell would adopt her if something happened to her mom.”

Pete shudders. “That’s just creepy.”

“But she can’t go around as herself anymore. So maybe she’ll impersonate someone else Lana is close to?”

He frowns. “Lana’s friendly, but she doesn’t have a best friend, not since…” he trails off, before clearing his throat. “Whoever she pretends to be, she’s gotta approach Lana, right?”

Clara slowly nods. “And Lana certainly was sticking up for Tina this morning. If Tina wants a sympathetic ear, she won’t find someone better.”

“And Lana’s definitely nice enough to buy whatever crazy shit Tina’s selling.”

She can’t argue with that. “Guess I’ll just have to stick to Lana like glue,” she huffs.

Pete’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Good luck.”

***

Meanwhile, at the mansion, Lex waits for Nixon while lounging in a single armchair positioned just so from the fireplace. There’s a roaring fire that comfortably wards off the chill, and stacks of money on the table next to him. The threat of his foolish past reaching the masses – reaching Clara – is an effective leverage, he admits, and he can practically hear his father’s lectures on how if only he’d behaved himself as a Luthor, none of this would be necessary… and he hates how he can’t argue with that.

He reaches for a tumbler of scotch and takes a fortifying sip when Nixon enters.

“Can I fix you a drink?” he offers almost pleasantly, holding up his glass.

Nixon eyes the cash greedily before looking up at Lex. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon get my money and get out.”

“Of course,” Lex says, his voice gentle, and gestures at the money.

“I assume I don’t have to count it.”

“I’ve even supplied the bag.” Lex throws said bag to Nixon, who starts filling it with the bundled up cash.

Lex smiles. “You’re feeling pretty good about yourself right now, aren’t you?”

Nixon doesn’t answer.

“You’d think with all the money my father’s spent, he could make things disappear.”

“Maybe he’s not as smart as he thinks,” Nixon retorts.

Lex’s brows rise up before he tilts his head as though agreeing with him.

Nixon drops the green folder on the table before zipping up the bag. “The original. Have a nice life.”

As he makes his way to the door, Lex says nonchalantly, “If you walk out that door, I will make you disappear.”

He stops and turns back. “What are you gonna do? You gonna have me killed?” he says skeptically.

Lex smiles and puts down his drink. “No. You’ll be very much alive.”

As Lex gets up and heads to the wall where there are cues and billiard balls neatly arranged, he adds, “But there won’t be any evidence of your existence.”

“What are you talking about?” Nixon asks warily.

He doesn’t bother to look over at Nixon as he grabs a cue. The pool table shows that a game is in progress, and Lex walks over to where the white cue ball has been left. “Your driver’s license, passport, social security number, bank account will all be erased.” Lining up his shot, he adds, “With one call, I can ensure that there will be no record that you actually walked this earth.”

“You’re bluffing,” Nixon says, although the pallor of his skin suggests he knows it’s very much possible.

Lex finally looks at him. “Call your bank, see if your account still exists.”

Without looking away, Nixon pulls out his phone from his pocket.

“That is if your cell phone hasn’t already been disconnected,” he adds with a chilling smile.

As Lex sinks the solid red ball into a corner pocket, Nixon tries and fails to make a call. His hands shake and he nearly fumbles the phone.

“What did you do?”

He winks. “Don’t worry, Roger. I’m going to give you a new identity.” Lex grabs the cue ball and tosses it in the air before catching it. “One that’s a little less upstanding. Maybe a murderer. Maybe a drug dealer.” He shrugs and places the ball back down onto the felt-covered table and lines up another shot. “Either way, you’ll lose your job, your house, and your family.”

Clearly panicking, Nixon steps forward. “Look, I’ll give the money back.” He tosses the bag onto the pool table before adding earnestly, “Then we’ll be even.”

Bizarrely, Lex smile almost looks kind. “No, we won’t. Because I also know your brother works for juvenile court. What’d you tell him? Steal the records and you can make some quick cash? He could do time for that.”

Nixon bites out, “Leave him out of this.”

Lex’s smile disappears. “I didn’t get him involved, Roger. You did.”

As Nixon looks pained at the reminder, Lex stalks around the pool table towards him.   Gesturing sharply at Nixon with his cue, he nearly snarls, “You came into my life thinking you could shake me down because I was some spoiled rich brat who needed his daddy’s protection.”

When Nixon appears utterly terrified, Lex stops moving. “Trust me, when I make things disappear, they stay buried.”

“What do you want from me?” he nearly whispers.

Lex’s mood shifts once more. “Your help,” he replies lightly.

He puts down the cue onto the table before moving towards his desk. “My father’s obsessed with the _Daily Planet_. But I know the _Inquisitor_ is read by the people; they’re the ones I’m interested in.”

He folds yesterday’s issue of the _Inquisitor_ in half and gestures it at Nixon. “I will feed you stories and you will print them. Any negative stories about me you’ll kill,” he orders as he thrusts the paper at Nixon’s chest. “You’ll be at my disposal 24/7. Got it?”

As Nixon walks away with his tail between his legs, looking equal parts satisfied and relieved, Lex finishes the remains of his drink.

***

Clara figures the best way to keep an eye on Lana is to invite her over for dinner and maybe even suggest a sleepover, though she’s unfortunately forced to reconsider when she recalls the presence of Lana’s meteor rock necklace. A few minutes’ exposure some distance away is, if not exactly good, bearable; being in close quarters for hours at a time isn’t something Clara can handle, not without arousing Lana’s suspicion. And so, despite feeling like a voyeur, Clara has to resort to surreptitiously spying on Lana – and particularly her house – using her telescope.

When Tina still hasn’t shown herself and Martha calls for her for dinner, Clara eagerly abandons her spying. In all honesty, she’s rather relieved; using her telescope to spy on a neighbor – no matter her intentions – is still creepy as hell, and she’s looking forward to taking a break during dinner to rest and relax a little.

Once dinner is over, Clara is about to force herself to return to her perch when she hears someone jogging towards the house. From her porch, she sees Lana slowing down before walking over.

When Clara quickly checks to make sure it’s actually Lana, she looks at her rather quizzically.

“Clara, what’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Clara blinks and forces her vision to return to normal. “Sorry, it’s nothing. I wasn’t sure it was you.”

Lana hesitates. “This is a bad time.”

“No,” Clara reassures her. “What is it?”

She sighs. “I was out jogging, didn’t want to go home. Kinda ended up here.”

Clara leans against the railing. “Is everything alright?”

“I found my mother’s diary,” Lana confesses. “Discovered that a lot of the things I’ve been feeling, she felt too. ”

“That’s great.” When Lana doesn’t exactly look pleased, Clara adds, “Isn’t it?”

Lana releases another sigh. “It’s great and it’s frustrating and it’s scary. It’s like she could see right through me, through the person that everybody sees to the person that I am, that I want to be. Do you ever feel like that?”

Clara gives a wistful smile as she looks up at the sky. Ever since she’s learned the truth of her origins, she’d desperately dreaded and desired to find someone who could see the real her, who she could tell her secrets to and know that they wouldn’t treat her any differently for them. She wants more than anything to have that confidante, more than being normal, even.

“When I was reading her words, it was like she was talking to me. And then she was gone.”

Clara exhales. “You’re lucky… you’re lucky you got at least that.”

Lana gives her a look of apology before she tentatively asks, “Have you ever tried to find your parents? Your biological parents, I mean.”

“I wanted to, for the longest time. But now… I’m not sure I want to. I figure they’re a million years away from my life now,” she says, once again staring up at the stars.

Lana shoots her a smile. “If you could ask them a question, what would you ask?”

Clara doesn’t return it. “What happened? Why’d they let me go? How do I make sense of all the… strangeness in my life?”

“I guess neither of us will ever get a straight answer,” Lana concludes sadly.

Clara looks over at her. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

With a small smile, Lana leaves. And Clara decides to discretely follow her just in case.

***

When Lana enters the house to no doubt shower and change, considering their earlier conversation, Clara figures she’ll most likely go to her parents’ gravesite afterwards. A quick look around and she spots a promising tree with thick branches that she can sit on that’s far enough away that she’ll largely remain hidden while still close enough to look out for Tina.

It’s so boring, however, that she feels her eyelids start to droop. She only wakes up when she hears approaching footsteps, but relaxes again when she realizes it’s only Whitney, wearing his trademark letterman jacket.

Believing that under the cover of darkness Tina will approach Lana as herself to plead her case, and as she’s unwilling to intrude on what will likely be a private moment between the estranged couple – she knows they’ve yet to make up from their fight – Clara decides to leave them be and heads for home.

She’s nearly out of the woods when she hears a horrified gasp. She turns around and suddenly, it’s as though her vision has gained a zoom lens. She sees that it hadn’t been Whitney but Tina all along. Tina, now in the guise of Lana, rips the meteor rock necklace from Lana’s neck and tucks it in her jacket pocket before starting to choke her.

Clara runs back at full speed. “Let her go, Tina!”

Tina drops Lana before turning around to face her. “Tina doesn’t exist anymore!” she yells.

As Clara falters, feeling the effects of the meteor rock necklace, Tina throws her, and her back hits a tombstone, which crumbles beneath her.

Tina stalks towards her, holding a metal pipe. With the effects of the meteor rock, she can’t fend off Tina, and she groans as Tina swings the pipe and hits her, sending her flying through the air once more before crashing down rather painfully against yet more tombstones.

“What’s the matter, Clara? Not feeling well?” she sneers.

“I know what it’s like to live with a secret,” she pants out, trying to reason with Tina.

“That was a lifetime ago,” Tina tells her, and takes off Whitney’s letterman jacket and flings it away. “And don’t worry about Lana – you’ll be joining her very soon.”

With the weakness brought on by the meteor rock gone, Clara is able to speed out of the way when Tina once again swings the pipe at her.

“Tina, you need to stop this.”

“Stop calling me Tina!” she screams as she charges at Clara.

Clara grabs the pipe and tries to jerk it away. Except Tina refuses to let go, and as Clara throws it away, Tina, still holding onto it, hits a tree. When she falls down onto the ground, she loses consciousness and returns to her own form.

“Lana!” Clara calls out as she dashes over to her. She checks her pulse and sees that it’s strong, and that she’s breathing.

Clara lets out a sigh of relief.

***

While Lana is being seen to by the EMTs, Clara demurs, claiming she’s fine. With no one having been witness to Tina flinging her around, they take her at her word and leave her alone. Once their statements are taken by the deputies, the two of them remain standing outside Lana’s house, watching as Tina is restrained and loaded onto an ambulance.

“You were right,” Lana says at last. “I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did after all.”

“Everyone has a dark secret they’re hiding, Lana. It’s not your fault you didn’t know Tina’s.”

Just then, Clara spots Chloe heading towards them. “Hey, I heard about what happened.”

“Did you come by to see if I was okay or for the latest scoop?” Clara asks, still a little miffed that she’d gotten the brush off from the blonde earlier.

“Actually, neither,” Chloe says pointedly. “As concerned as I always am about your personal wellbeing, I’m not here to see you.” She turns to Lana and adds, “So, um, I did some digging.”

She hands over a tape that has ‘Graduation Address 1977’ written on it.

“What is it?” Clara asks.

“Oh my God,” Lana says, as she carefully takes the tape. “It’s my mother’s valedictorian speech. How did you find this?”

Chloe shrugs. “If I told you I’d have to kill you, and it looks like you’ve had enough trauma for one night.”

Lana smiles. She touches where the meteor rock necklace would normally be. “Chloe, thank you.”

“No problem.”

When the real Whitney arrives with the familiar letterman jacket in hand, Clara leaves them to make up and heads for her parents.

“How’s Tina?”

“She won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” Martha assures her.

Clara wants to ask her how, but figures maybe it’s best for her not to know the answer.

“I still don’t understand why she would do all that,” Jonathan says.

Clara sighs. “I do. You go through life with a gift you have to keep a secret. When you see everyone around you being normal, you get jealous. You just want to be somebody else.”

Martha and Jonathan hug her close between them. Her telescopic vision once again kicks in, and Clara looks all around her and then up at the sky, where she’s able to see far more than she’s ever seen before with her naked eye.

“Mom, if you could see anything, what would you do?”

Martha looks at her kindly. “Learn to close my eyes.”

Clara nods, and does just that.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Lana's birthday party approaches, everyone is eager to find themselves a date, which unfortunately leads to some trouble both small and large. Meanwhile, the Kents' financial problems reach untenable heights. Lex offers to be their salvation but Jonathan can't bring himself to trust him. And through it all, Clara is having trouble with her friends - including Lex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I'm sorry for the long absence, and so as a belated Christmas gift, this chapter is extra long! 
> 
> A couple of things: 
> 
> 1) WARNING: a character in this chapter has issues with body image and weight and suffers from fat shaming by bullies. I just wanted you to be warned in case this topic is one that may be triggering for you.
> 
> 2) I moved up Lana's birthday because it's supposed to be in the fall, which in my mind means early November at the latest. I know that technically before the end of November is still considered fall, but that doesn't make sense to me so I'm ignoring it.
> 
> 3) I also know that in the show, Lana's birthday party is supposed to be on a Saturday, but they're clearly in school that morning/afternoon since Clark and Chloe see Jodi in the cafeteria for a supposed "study group." Since as far as I'm aware schools don't hold classes or study groups on Saturdays, I've changed it Friday so that it make sense.
> 
> 4) Regarding the Kents' financial situation: I've mentioned in an earlier chapter that it wouldn't make sense for a teenage girl and her father to be able to run the farm by themselves. It's why they are more strapped for cash than in the show, even with Martha already selling baked goods to the Beanery. In an earlier draft, I actually had the Kents contacting William Clark for money when Clara was younger, but decided against it because it then went in a widely different tangent. I may eventually post that version of the story (as I still have 5 pages of outline on it) if you'd like me to.
> 
> There's also another note at the end to prevent spoilers. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Five

The Kents live very much hand-to-mouth, with little money collecting in their savings account. Martha, despite having grown up in a wealthy family – if nothing to the Luthors – doesn’t complain, because she knows how sensitive Jonathan is about their financial situation and her family is definitely worth sacrificing some material comforts. She’s always done what she can to pitch in, and she’s proud of the fact that her organic produce and her baked goods have been quite instrumental in helping keep their farm afloat the last couple of years. Jonathan, who hadn’t known what to feel when Martha had first started these side ventures, has long been completely on board.

Still, no matter how great Martha’s initiatives are, they can’t completely reverse the Kents’ financial troubles. And that fact becomes ever clearer as they diligently work on the farm books that morning in the kitchen. Martha had hoped the recent increases in revenue from additional produce orders might have been enough to make a difference, but as they are tallying it all up, the grim outlook remains.

She still can’t help but hope – however futilely – for it to be otherwise as she continues to type into the calculator. “The distributor gets 12,5.”

“The feed bill over 6 months at 5%,” Jonathan brings up as he gets up from the table and heads for the coffee maker to pour himself some more coffee.

“Plus the mortgage at 8.2. Plus the harvester repairs gives us-”

“$54,501.38,” Clara answers as she enters the kitchen. She’d opted to finish her chores early that morning so that she could hang out with Lex after school.

Her parents can’t quite suppress the look of surprise and guilt on their faces as they meet her gaze.

“Hey, uh, Clara, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for you to hear all that,” Jonathan says with a wince.

Clara has long since known the farm’s not doing well, but she’d wanted to know just how badly things are without her parents telling her not to worry or sugarcoating it. And so when she’d overhead them working on the farm finances, she’d deliberately kept silent as she’d watched from the porch, knowing they’ll stop the moment they see her.

She turns on the tap to wash her hands. “You don’t have to protect me. Is it that bad?”

As Clara dries her hands with a towel, Martha looks down, unable to meet her eyes. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad. We might have to take out a bank loan.”

Clara’s eyes widen. “Another one? The interest alone would put us up to-”

“Clara, don’t,” Martha bids.

She reluctantly does so and shakes her head when Jonathan offers her a pop tart. She suddenly isn’t all that hungry.

“Maybe I can help,” she offers.

“You already have,” Jonathan tells her with a smile. “Last season you saved us 2 part-time hands.”

“I’m thinking bigger picture. You know, forget about this whole high school thing and become a sports star. I could make a ton of money in endorsements.”

Seeing the looks from her parents, she quirks her lips. “Just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“As much as we’d love to see your face on a cereal box, we’d settle for you getting to school on time,” Martha pointedly remarks.

“Right,” she says, and zips upstairs to gather her things. When she speeds back downstairs, she’s shrugging on her coat, her backpack in hand.

Clara pauses to look down at the farm books.

“That’s $66,201,” she points out.

“Go!” Martha scolds, and Clara zips away again.

***

Clara knows that no one’s life is perfect. And despite her status as a loser, she doesn’t doubt that among the students of Smallville High, there are some who would envy her life if they knew the full extent of it. After all, she has parents who love her, perfect health except for when she’s around meteor rocks, and an array of powers that are a burden and proof of her alien-ness to her, but which others may find miraculous. Still, she can’t help but feel resentful as she watches them go about their day, their conversations full of mundane minutiae that she yearns to be a part of but can’t help but be completely disconnected from, especially when she knows that her home is at risk.

Her friends unwittingly make it worse.

Lana and Whitney are disgustingly happy with each other now that they’ve made up, and she’s proudly sporting a gorgeous necklace from him. Ever since the whole thing with her mother’s diary and the graduation speech, Lana has stopped wearing her meteor rock necklace. Clara had been relieved and happy for her, hoping it means that Lana is no longer so hung up on her dead parents and that she’s moving on with her life. But after having worn something around her neck for years, to now be without anything had been making Lana feel naked. When she’d mentioned it to Whitney, being the good boyfriend that he is, he’d bought a new necklace for her. As glad as Clara is for Lana, she definitely could’ve done without the exuberant hug and kiss and the showing off of the necklace.

Pete, meanwhile, has learned that his mom is getting herself a new car, and so her old one will soon be his. The car’s still in great shape and he’s busy trying to decide what new paintjob he should get, and so is busy soliciting advice from all and sundry and grinning with delight all the while. As for Chloe? She’s busy complaining that her father has already started discussing summer vacation destinations despite it being only November, and in any case, how she plans to apply for a summer internship with the _Daily Planet_ , which will be much more fun in her estimation.

Therefore, when the bell rings signaling the end of classes, Clara escapes before she hears any more about everyone else’s good fortune. That she chooses to seek sanctuary at Lex’s is incongruous, she knows. After all, he’s a billionaire who lives in a mansion and drives fancy cars; if there is anyone she should avoid to reduce the risk of resentment, it’s him. But despite all the trappings of wealth, Lex doesn’t flaunt it; it’s the very least important thing about him, and he gives off the impression that were it all to be taken away tomorrow, he would not just land on his feet but thrive.

And there’s something almost… comforting about that.

Lex is clearly surprised to see her so early, since she usually goes home first to do her chores. Still, he greets her with a smile and leads her to the soft leather couch in his study that’s taken place of the armchairs.

Clara can’t help but wonder if he’d put it there just for her.

Once he returns to his desk and his laptop, Clara digs through her backpack for her homework. She hasn’t been at it for long when she hears approaching footsteps before the door unceremoniously opens.

“Lex, I was thinking-” Nell Potter pauses as she sees her on the couch. Her eyebrows tick up in astonishment. “Clara.”

Clara sits up, surprised at Nell’s sudden appearance. She doesn’t know why Nell is here or why Lex’s staff is letting her just barge in to his study without any warning. She darts a quick glance over at Lex, but despite being disturbed, he appears completely unruffled.

“Hi Nell,” she greets somewhat awkwardly. She’s never really liked Nell. The mixture of pity and distaste in Nell’s gaze when looking at her – not to mention her clear dislike of Martha even as she fawns over Jonathan – ensures that although Clara is polite to her as a daughter raised by Martha Kent should be, she has never thought well of her.

If Lex notices the uncomfortable tension in the room, he doesn’t let on. “Nell’s organizing Lana’s birthday party, and I offered up the mansion’s ballroom for the occasion.”

“That’s great,” Clara says, even as she feels yet another spark of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. She doesn’t know what she’s more jealous of – Lex’s familiarity with Lana – enough to actually offer up his home – or the fact that Lana’s birthday party will be in an actual castle, like some kind of a fairytale. She does her best to smother it. “I’m sure it’s going to be a party to remember.”

Nell snaps to attention at that. “Well I’m certainly going to try my best.” Dismissing Clara, she turns to Lex. “I’m going to hire an event planner, Lex, and-”

“I’ll let Mrs. Palmer know, make sure they’ll have access.”

Having achieved her objective, Nell shoots Lex a distracted smile in thanks before leaving, already preoccupied with her cell phone.

“So Lana’s birthday party, huh?” Clara says once she can no longer hear Nell’s footsteps. She’s relieved to hear her voice sounding completely normal, free of any jealousy with just the right amount of curiosity.

“Nell’s an old family friend.”

She nods in understanding. At least that answers the question of why Lex would offer up his home for the event, even if the place is a mansion. “Still, it’s really nice of you. A birthday party in a castle ballroom? It will literally be a fairytale. I’m sure Lana will love it.”

Clara is able to muster up a smile, but she doubts it’s as sincere as it should be. She looks away. She can’t deny that she’s excited to finally be able to attend a birthday party. She’s never gone to one before, at first because her parents had refused to let her for fear that she’d give herself away, and then as she grew older, because she’d lacked friends and nobody would invite her to anything. By the time she’d finally had a person she could call a friend, Chloe’s dad had opted to take the blonde to Metropolis for her birthday and so she hadn’t thrown a party in Smallville. Still, the knowledge that she’ll definitely be invited this time around doesn’t erase the envy she feels at Lana getting to have a fairytale party in a veritable castle when all Clara had been able to get for her birthday had been a cake she hadn’t been able to eat.

Before Clara can chastise herself for such ungrateful and ungenerous thoughts, Lex gives a careless shrug. He stands and approaches the couch.

“Now, tell me, how’s your history project going?”

***

It turns out Nell has invited the entire student population of Smallville High to Lana’s birthday party. The invitations are actually all mailed out, and the fancy calligraphy on the pink stationary are so perfectly Lana that Clara is once more envious over the fact that Lana not only has someone who knows her so well, but can also afford to throw her the best birthday party the town has ever seen. Not to mention that everyone invited will undoubtedly show up, all willing to offer the birthday girl their best wishes, even if they may not like that they have to be at the Luthor Mansion to do it.

So it frankly rather irritates Clara that Lana doesn’t seem appreciative enough of her aunt’s efforts. She’s not being mean or obvious about it – it is Lana, after all – but when she begs Clara to come over to her house to help her study for the math midterm, despite having just studied for the damn thing for all of last week, Clara almost turns her down. She even starts to regret a little that she no longer has the meteor rock necklace as a reason to avoid Lana. She’d enjoyed the fact that she could hang out with her without reservation or having to come up with excuses as to why she couldn’t… Until now, that is.

Except Lana looks so pitiful and hopeful that despite her irritation, Clara finds herself saying yes anyway.

“What did the princess want?” Chloe asks when Lana rushes off to say bye to Whitney.

“My help studying for the math midterm.”

Chloe scowls. “Again? But I need help too and I’m your best friend! Don’t I get priority or something?”

“I already told her I would, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you too. Why don’t you join us? I’m sure Lana won’t mind.”

The blonde’s smile is tight. “No thanks. Wouldn’t want to intrude on your alone time with your new BFF.”

“Chloe, just because I’m hanging out more with Lana doesn’t mean you’re not my best friend,” she says reassuringly.

“Some best friend,” she snaps. “I barely get to see y- you know what? Whatever. I’ve got things to do.”

“Chloe!” Clara calls out as she stalks off.

Before she can chase after the blonde, Lana waves her over. “Come on, Clara! Whitney’s going to give us a ride!”

Sighing, Clara joins the duo, promising herself she’ll catch up with Chloe afterwards and make it up to her.

***

Pete doesn’t quite understand just why Chloe is mad at Clara and refusing to join Lana’s study session, but he knows better than to object or otherwise prod the blonde and make her upset with him. And so, as math isn’t exactly either of their strong suits and they really do need someone to help them study for the midterm, he suggests Jodi Melville. The redhead is the only other person in the class who not only knows the material well enough to teach someone else but also is nice enough that she’ll most likely agree to a last minute tutoring session.

Jodi had actually been one of the most popular girls in Smallville until she’d started to gain weight. Between the loss of her popularity and a plethora of mean comments later, and it’s not exactly a surprise to find that she’s become fixated with her weight and figure. She might still have been able to make friends among the less popular set, except her preoccupation with her body and her obsession with losing the excess pounds has alienated everyone who might have tried to become her friend.

Seeing Jodi still sitting in the back of a classroom, Chloe and Pete make their way over. As they walk up to her, Chloe sees that she’s pasting photos of her own face on the bodies of models from magazines in her book. When she sees Jodi cut the head off one of the models in a bikini, she can’t help but remark, “Cutting the heads off supermodels. It’s kind of redundant, isn’t it?”

Jodi smiles up at them awkwardly before closing her notebook and the magazine in front of her.

“Just looking for outfit ideas. I still don’t have anything to wear to Lana’s party.”

Before Chloe can make a quip about bikinis not being appropriate wear to a birthday party in November, Pete opens up her notebook. Jodi quickly closes it again, nearly catching his fingers in its pages, before asking, “What’s up?”

Chloe glances at Pete before turning back to Jodi. “Uh, Pete and I were kind of hoping you could give us a quick algebra download,” she says hopefully.

Jodi hurriedly begins to gather her things, as though afraid Pete might look through her notebook again if it remains within reach.

“I thought Clara usually helps you guys.”

“She’s a little preoccupied helping the birthday girl,” Pete replies with a shrug.

“Oh,” is all Jodi can think of to say in response.

“We’ll even spring for food,” Chloe offers with a smile, hoping that’ll convince her.

Jodi agrees to help them but declines the offer of food. Instead, once they settle down to begin their tutoring session, she pours a thick, lumpy green concoction out of a thermos into a cup.

Pete looks at the green liquid rather unenthusiastically. “That looks, uh, appetizing.” He tries for a smile but fails.

Chloe, on the other hand, looks completely grossed out and doesn’t bother to hide it.

“Losing weight is never pretty,” Jodi states before taking a dainty sip. She holds out the cup to Pete, who hurriedly raises his hands to decline.

Just then, two guys walk over to them.

“Hey Ross, we’re getting a little game together. You want in, or do you want to keep whale watching?” Dustin says, looking at Jodi and laughing.

Hurt, Jodi turns away and throws a nervous glance at Pete. She braces herself, clearly ready for Pete to abandon her or join in on the bullying to avoid also being made the subject of ridicule.

To her surprise, he does nothing of the sort. Instead, he sighs before ordering, “Dustin, back off.”

Dustin pretends to back away. “Ooh. Chill out, cool guy. I didn’t know you were a chubby chaser.” He then throws the basketball at Pete’s feet, and as it bounces it hits Jodi’s arm, jostling the cup and thermos and causing her green smoothie to spill all over herself and Chloe. Pete catches the ball but it’s too late; although Chloe, having jumped back, only gets minor splashes from it, the chunky green liquid is all over Jodi’s face and clothes.

“Oh!” Dustin crows, and the obnoxious laughter of his friends and bystanders ring out around them.

Looking absolutely humiliated, Jodi rushes off, even as Pete calls out after her. “Jodi, wait!”

“Oh man,” Dustin says meanly. “You’d think someone that big would have a thicker skin.”

With a glare, Pete throws the basketball, smacking Dustin right in the forehead.

“You’d think someone that stupid would have a thicker head,” Chloe retorts before rushing off after Jodi.

With another glare at Dustin and exhaling with frustration, Pete follows.

***

Having studied the exact same material before means there’s very little left for Clara to teach Lana. Still, Nell and the event planner give them space to study, and Lana takes full advantage of it. Wanting to stretch out the study session as much as possible, Lana insists they go over everything with a fine-toothed comb, so that by the time they’re done, nearly 2 hours have passed.

When at last there’s nothing else to possibly review, Clara starts putting the books away. She overhears Nell ask the event planner, “Now, I want this to be special. What do you think about a 3-tier birthday cake?”

The event planner opens the binder in her hands to display several options.

“Thanks for the lifeline,” Lana says, regaining Clara’s attention.

“It’s a math midterm. It’s not like I pulled you out of a burning building,” she points out.

“I still appreciate it,” Lana tells her as she gets up from the table and starts putting on her coat.

“Lana?” They look up and see Nell standing in the doorway, holding several different colored balloons. “I just wanted to get your opinion on the balloons. Now, I think white always looks good,” she says, as she holds up the white one in question.

Lana smiles and nods. “Works for me.”

Nell echoes the smile. “Okay.”

Once Nell heads back into the living room to join the event planner and her assistant, Lana hurriedly makes her way to the front door.

“This whole birthday extravaganza has been pretty distracting,” she complains as soon as they’re out of earshot.

As Clara follows, she bites back some choice words. Instead, she says as evenly as she can, “I don’t know. Having a birthday party at Lex’s mansion seems pretty cool to me.”

Lana sighs. “It stopped being my party a long time ago. If it were up to me, it would be pizza and loud music with my friends.”

Once they step out onto the porch, Clara asks, “Did you tell Nell that?”

Lana gives her a worn smile. “We’ve been through a lot in the past couple of weeks. I figure I should give her this one.”

Before Clara can say something she’ll regret, a silver truck thankfully pulls up and Whitney jumps out.

“Lana, guess what?”

“The scout called!” she says excitedly with a wide smile.

Whitney grins back just as widely. “I just heard. I got the tryout with Kansas State!”

“That’s incredible!” The two of them celebrate with an exuberant hug.

“Congratulations Whitney,” Clara tells him when they pull away.

“Thanks Clara.” He turns back to Lana and admits, “I haven’t said yes yet.”

When Lana looks at him quizzically, he explains, “They want me there on Friday, but that’s your big night.”

“It’s Nell’s big night,” Lana insists. “I was just telling Clara it wasn’t important.”

When Whitney looks over at her, Clara nods in agreement. “Yeah, scout’s honor.”

“I want you to go,” Lana says sincerely.

He stares at her for a beat, and after realizing she means it, he pulls her to him and kisses her sweetly.

Feeling uncomfortable, Clara pipes up. “Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Neither of them even acknowledges her departure.

***

After having failed to find Jodi, Chloe and Pete had resigned themselves to doing poorly on the midterm. Thankfully, Clara comes over to Chloe’s house after she finishes with Lana, and her apology – and invaluable help with math – results in the blonde forgiving Clara.

The next day, with the successful completion of their midterm – Pete and Chloe think they might have even scored a B – they’re happily making their way out of the school when they overhear plans for a party. The news of Whitney’s tryout has made the rounds, and so to celebrate, there’s going to be an impromptu party that night at Crater Lake. Pete’s eyes light up with determination, intent on going in hopes of landing himself a date to Lana’s birthday party. In fact, he decides to start early and actually abandons them to run after several of the girls in their math class.

Although Clara can’t deny that she’s tempted to go, she also knows that if she does, even if it’s with her friends, she’ll be miserable. Chloe will undoubtedly abandon her for a story or other, Lana and Whitney will certainly be too preoccupied with each other to pay her any sort of attention, and Pete of course will be too busy trying to find himself a date in a desperate attempt to get over Chloe to keep her company. Since no guy is interested in her and the only other girls at the party will be those who already dislike her, it means she’ll be left standing awkwardly by herself, feeling like even more of a loser and an outcast. It will be like the homecoming dance all over again except with alcohol – and since she doesn’t like the taste of beer, even that’s not an attraction.

Considering all that, it’s no wonder that Clara refuses to go when Chloe asks. Except it’s Chloe, and so she refuses to take “no” for an answer and insists she go with her for some reason that Clara can’t determine.

“No,” she says again.

“Come on, you can’t miss out on such a quintessential high school experience!” Chloe cajoles.

Clara refuses to fall for such obvious bait. She’d gone to the homecoming dance, after all, another such an experience, and she’d been miserable. Nothing’s changed between then and now that would somehow make attending this party worthwhile.

“No.”

“Pleeeeease, Clara?” Chloe begs. “I want to go but I don’t want to go by myself.”

“You won’t be going alone, Pete’ll be with you.”

“He doesn’t count!”

Clara’s suddenly glad Pete isn’t around to hear that. No doubt he’d take it wrong, and this time, it would take far more than her mother’s baked treats to smooth over. Realizing Chloe won’t be giving up any time soon, she releases a longsuffering sigh.

“You owe me for this. And you can’t ditch me.”

“Promise!” Chloe swears.

And so, despite her reservations, Clara reluctantly decides to tag along to the party at Crater Lake.

***

In an effort to raise more revenue, Martha and Jonathan have been tossing around ideas. Considering how popular her baked treats are, he suggests she try her hand at homemade espresso brews. It’s too cold out to have a coffee/baked goods stand, but they can definitely still sell Martha’s treats at home, and if they also sell “fancy” coffee at cheaper prices than the Beanery, he’s sure they’ll have plenty of customers. It might not be enough to prevent them from taking out another bank loan, but at least it’ll be better than just hoping and praying their way out of a financial hole.

And so, having researched recipes and techniques, Martha is attempting to make a homemade latte when Lana knocks on the screen door.

“Hello!” she says, and Martha looks up from the stove.

“Lana! Hi, come in,” she greets with a smile.

“Hey! Lana can I, uh, interest you in a latte?” Jonathan asks, brandishing a mug.

“I’ll pass. Bad waitressing flashbacks,” she explains with a wry smile, before digging through her purse. “I brought over the produce order for the party.”

Martha tilts her head in confusion. “Well, you could have called it in.”

“And miss a chance to get out of the house?”

At the Kents’ look of surprise, Lana confesses, “Nell’s planning this party like a royal wedding.”

Martha’s eyes widen as she looks over the produce order. “Oh, yeah, I can tell.”

Nell is certainly going all out for her niece’s birthday, and Martha can’t help but feel a pang of guilt that she can’t do the same thing for her daughter. Martha has always felt terrible about the way Clara had been forced to dress, all the toys that she’d never gotten to play with, and all the opportunities that other girls her age got that she’d always lacked. She’d consoled herself with the knowledge of how loving and great their home was for a girl growing up, but now that that might be torn away from Clara, she feels like she and Jonathan have failed their daughter, their miracle child.

She spitefully thinks that Nell is doing all of this to impress the residents of Smallville more so than making sure her niece has a great birthday.

Before Martha can chastise herself for such ungenerous and unworthy thought, Clara backs in through the kitchen door carrying three crates of apples in her arms. Jonathan, realizing that Lana would find it more than a little suspicious, darts forward.

“Clara, let me help you with those before you throw your back out,” he says, and to Clara’s confusion, grabs two of the crates out of her arms.

When she opens her mouth to ask what’s going on, she spots Lana standing by Martha, and her eyes widen in understanding.

“Lana!” Clara uses the distraction of the apple crate to look away and get herself together. That’d been a rather close call – she’d been about to mention how she’d jammed the post in the west field through granite, something that Lana would no doubt find suspect.

As soon as she puts down the apples, she turns with a bright smile. “I thought you’d be posing for ice sculptures by now,” she jokes.

“I’m hiding out.”

Clara still thinks Lana is being terribly selfish and unappreciative of it all, but she’s given up on trying to convince Lana about it.

“You have my sympathies,” she says, even if it’s not strictly true. “And Whitney’s not even here for backup.”

“I know. I was contemplating stowing away in the back of his truck on Friday.”

Clara’s eyebrows rise. “A no-show at your own party. That would keep the town talking.”

Lana shakes her head. “I wouldn’t do that to Nell. It’s just… all this attention is a little unnerving.”

Clara doesn’t know what it’s like to have so many people interested and caring about you and your opinions, but she thinks she wouldn’t be so ungrateful. She stamps down on that unkind thought and instead says, “Well, at least all your friends will be there on Friday. We’ll make sure you get to have a great time.”

Lana smiles gratefully. “Thanks.” She looks at the clock on the wall and winces. “I better go. If I’m away for too long Nell will probably send out a search party.”

Clara waves bye as Lana reluctantly leaves, and barely waits for Lana to round the corner before she’s escaping to the loft. Much as she adores her mother’s culinary endeavors, the less-than-appetizing smell coming from the pot on the stove makes it clear her mother should stick to her famous hot chocolates instead.

***

That night, when they arrive at Crater Lake – “fashionably late” per Chloe’s insistence – the party is in full swing, with loud blaring music, plenty of booze, and a bonfire. There are trucks parked all around them, and many a couple are huddled together underneath thick blankets and sleeping bags on truck beds, including Whitney and Lana.

Pete, unwilling to miss out on any opportunity to try out his special brand of charm, has already been there for a good hour. As they’re walking around, they see him striking out with one of the cheerleaders, though he doesn’t seem too heartbroken. He acknowledges Clara’s wave, but rather than coming over, he dives right back in and sidles up to another girl nearby. Chloe rolls her eyes before determinedly walking on.

They make a full circuit before trekking back to the bonfire. Chloe grumbles, clearly less than pleased.

“This is what I love about high school parties,” she comments sourly. “People will gather anywhere as long as there’s illegally purchased alcohol and even the slightest chance of hooking up.”

“If I recall correctly,” Clara points out dryly, “You’re the one who insisted on coming to this party.”

Chloe huffs and shivers, her shoulders hunching in an effort to hide every part of her body from exposure. “Yeah, but I didn’t know it was going to be so cold. It’s like 20,000 degrees below zero out here.”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel that cold to me.” In fact, Clara can’t recall when she last felt the cold.

Chloe scoffs. “Are you from an ice planet or something? It’s freezing. I’m going to go thaw out by the fire. Have fun, Clara!”

Thunderstruck by the idea that her home planet might in fact be an ice planet, or perhaps one that has colder temperatures than Earth, it takes a few moments before she realizes she has been abandoned as predicted.

Rather than standing there alone looking like an idiot, Clara decides to pretend to be cold after all and join Chloe when Sean Kelvin approaches her. He’s one of the more repellent football players, a complete asshole who has made a sport of tormenting her just because she’s taller than him. She can’t fathom why he’s voluntarily foisting himself on her presence; she only wishes she could tell him where to shove his unwanted thoughts on her existence.

“Hey Kent, you’re friends with Chloe, right?” he asks, thankfully keeping his distance. “Is she flying solo tonight?”

Clara resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she pointedly looks down her nose at him, knowing full well how much he hates being reminded that he’s shorter than her. “Believe me, Sean, you’re not her type.”

He sneers, his eyes conveying his disgust for her very being. “Well, you’d be surprised.”

With that, he heads straight over to where Chloe’s sitting on a log and extending her hands close to the fire in an effort to warm them.

“If you’d like, I could rub them for you. Nothing heats up a body like friction,” Sean remarks as he sidles up next to her.

Chloe shoots him a look of incredulity. “Wow. I can’t believe you just delivered that line with a straight face.”

Sean doesn’t seem to be deterred by the less than warm welcome. Instead, he says innocently, “Well, all I did was offer to keep your hands warm, Chloe.”

“And he knows my name.”

“I’ve read your editorials in the _Torch_. Pretty cool.”

Chloe doesn’t appear to let that work on her. “Well, thank you, Sean. I sit next to Jenna in bio class. Remember, you dumped her last week?”

“It was mutual.”

“So you’re here trolling for fresh meat.”

“Don’t worry, Chloe. I’m not going to make a move on you, no matter how pretty I think you are.”

Despite herself, Chloe is clearly pleased by the compliment. Although she’s trying to smother her smile, she’s not successful; in fact, to Clara’s surprise, her cheeks even flush – and not because she’s near the fire.

“Yo Sean!” Whitney calls out. “Hail Mary’s down by the lake!”

As several of the guys head towards the lake to toss around a football, Sean asks Chloe, “Yeah, uh hey, can I get your number?”

Chloe’s laugh carries a note of surprise. “Wh-why? You’re never going to call.”

“I’ll call you later tonight, I promise.”

Even as she digs into her jacket pocket for a pen, she tells him, “Well, I won’t hold my breath.”

Grabbing Sean’s hand, she writes on his palm. Clara is appalled when she sees it’s actually Chloe’s real cell phone number written on there.

Chloe smiles dreamily to herself once Sean runs off to join the other football players. Clara can’t help the frown that appears on her face, the hurt and betrayal she feels too sudden for her to mask. Chloe is aware – and had in fact been a witness – to Sean’s behavior towards her, and yet rather than sending him packing after sticking up for her, she’s instead given him her number.

She slowly walks over and sits down on the log next to Chloe.

“Did you just write your number down on Sean Kelvin’s hand?”

Chloe’s smile turns a little guilty when she sees the expression on her face. She then determinedly shakes her head.

“Clara, relax. I just gave him my number to get rid of him. Come on, let’s get Pete. The taxi’s leaving.”

The excuse doesn’t fly, as she could’ve given him a fake number instead of her real one, but Clara doesn’t say another word. She suddenly can’t help but feel like her friendship with Chloe is at risk; that with one more word, Chloe will abandon her, leaving her alone and friendless once again.

“Clara, come on!” Chloe calls out.

Pete is already at her side, alone and clearly eager to leave, though Clara’s not sure if his eagerness is due to him being struck out or because he’d witnessed Chloe’s flirtations with Sean. She supposes it doesn’t matter.

Sighing, Clara dutifully follows them into the cab.

***

After failing at making homemade espresso brews, Martha and Jonathan resign themselves to taking out another bank loan. Knowing the end result of that could mean the loss of the farm with one defaulted payment, Martha is eagerly taking out her frustrations on wood by chopping it up with a chainsaw. It’s far healthier than keeping it all bottled up, and besides, she dares anyone to claim Jonathan isn’t venting his own frustrations and aggression out in the backfield. Her lips quirk as she imagines pitching woodcutting as a stress reliever to the rich businessmen of Metropolis; while she doesn’t doubt many would be horrified at getting their hands so dirty, she thinks there’d be just as many who would agree with her on its therapeutic aspects.

After cutting another piece of a log with the portable chainsaw, Martha turns to gather the pieces to put into a pile only to see that Lex is standing right beside her.

“Whoa!” Lex jerks back, raising his hands in the air. “I come in peace.”

“Lex!” Martha is horrified. A few inches closer and she would’ve cut him in half. Heart in her throat and pulse pounding in her ears, Martha’s fingers fumble as she tries to turn off the chainsaw. When she finally succeeds, she hurriedly puts it down far away from Lex. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t welding,” he remarks. Despite the close call, he looks amazingly calm.

Relieved, Martha laughs, though it sounds overly high and loud. “What brings you out here in the middle of the day?”

Lex bends over to grab the wooden logs Martha has already sawed off and tosses them onto the gathered pile. “Those artichokes of yours. I need about 30 of them if you’ve got them.”

Her eyes widen. “30? That’s a lot of artichokes.” Despite knowing she doesn’t have the supply, she can’t help but wish he’d order 3000 of them.

“Yeah, I’m hosting a dinner tomorrow night for the local farming community, just an informal talk about some financial options. A lot of farms in town are having money trouble.”

Martha wonders why they weren’t invited, and then thinks this is why Lex has come over to the farm. No doubt he hopes to convince Jonathan to attend by appealing to her.

“Most people aren’t looking for loans,” she advises him.

“I’m offering my role as an investor.” He picks up the last log and throws it onto the pile. “Help people modernize and expand. This town once grew 20% of the corn in the state. Smallville was a heavy hitter, it just lost the drive to stay competitive.”

“Or its connections,” Martha argues, sticking up for her family and neighbors who are as hard working as ever.

“If this town ever had connections, they wouldn’t have named it Smallville,” he quips before turning around to face Martha. “Your husband hasn’t exactly kept his feelings about me a secret, but I’d appreciate hearing your thoughts on my proposal even if you’re not interested.”

She nearly winces at that. She tries to both explain and defend her husband. “Jonathan doesn’t hate you. It’s just… your family’s track record hasn’t been the best in this town.”

“Tell him I intend to change that.” Lex is firm and confident, and sheer determination exudes from him.

Martha nods, and as Lex leaves, stares after him in pleasant surprise.

***

“So, did Sean call?” Clara asks with concerted effort at nonchalance as they make their way towards the front steps of the school.

“Negative. Not that I was waiting by the phone or anything,” Chloe insists, though considering the way she’s refusing to meet her eyes and her tone of voice, it’s clear she really had been hoping for a call.

Clara again feels that pang of betrayal. But this time, now that her fears of being alone and friendless have subsided – for, after all, even in the unlikely event that Chloe decides to no longer be her friend, she still has Lex, Lana, and perhaps even Pete – she no longer feels like she has to keep that to herself. Clara is well aware you can’t help being attracted to somebody; considering her former crush on Whitney despite him being in a relationship with Lana, and her feelings for Lex despite the impossibility of that ever being returned, it would be hypocritical to say the least if she judges Chloe for them. The important difference, however, is that she has never once acted on her feelings for Whitney despite Lex’s urging; Chloe, however, is clearly willing to throw someone she calls her best friend over for a guy. And Clara’s not okay with that.

“Maybe he got caught up,” Pete tries to excuse. “One time, my sister didn’t hear from a guy for a week. When she called to tell him off, it turned out his grandmother had died.”

Chloe sighs. “Ah, as much as I appreciate the spotlight here, I’m fine.”

“You’re better off. Sean’s a total ass.”

Pete frowns. “He’s not that bad, Clara. He’s always been cool to me.”

Clara rolls her eyes. Of course he’s decent to Pete; he’s not only shorter than him, he’s also on the football team.

He scowls. “Hey, just because you aren’t crushing on anyone, don’t knock us for trying to make a love connection.”

She’s about to retort when a female voice greets Pete.

When they turn around, a redhead gets up from the picnic table and walk towards them until they can clearly see her without the bench in the way. It takes a moment for them to place her.

“Jodi?” Pete says in shock. “You look…”

When he trails off, Jodi says, “Thinner?” with a smile.

It’s very obvious that she’s lost quite a bit of weight – in fact, it looks like in the span of not even 24 hours, she’s clearly gone down a couple of dress sizes.

Chloe walks over, looking suspicious and disbelieving. “I was still looking for a euphemism, but… yeah.”

“Are you okay?” Clara asks. She’s never been close to Jodi – she’d been too popular to hang out with the likes of Clara at first and then too withdrawn and clearly unwilling to accept any overtures from her – but that doesn’t mean she’s not concerned.

“Never better. My diet’s just starting to pay off, is all. I actually had to buy some new clothes,” she says, showing them off.

Clara can’t help but be a little jealous.

“You look great,” Pete remarks with a smile.

“Not that you didn’t look great before,” Clara chimes in, and pokes Pete for good measure.

Before Pete can try to cover up his faux pas, Jodi shoots her a disbelieving look, clearly disagreeing with her. Shaking her head, she turns back to Pete.

“Thank you for sticking up for me yesterday. Most people wouldn’t have done that.”

He shrugs. “Most people can’t stand Dustin.”

“Yeah.” Jodi laughs a little, betraying her nervousness. “Listen, I was wondering. Do you have a date for Lana’s party?”

Pete just stares at her, clearly speechless. As Jodi looks at him worriedly, Clara pokes him in the back again, prodding him to respond. Seeing that he’s still dumbstruck, she answers for him.

“No, he’s still free.”

Jodi shoots a thankful smile at Clara before turning back to Pete. “Would you like to go with me?”

Pete takes a deep breath and just smiles stupidly, clearly unable to form words. Clara and Chloe exchange fond and knowing grins, and Clara, realizing he’s still not said an answer, pokes him again. When that doesn’t snap him out of it, she once more answers for him. “He’d love to.”

Jodi’s smile is one of relief and joy. “Great. Okay, well, I’ll see you later.”

The two of them continue to smile goofily at each other until Jodi finally walks away. Pete stares after her for a long moment before finally saying softly, “Bye.”

“I don’t get it,” Chloe says musingly once Jodi is out of earshot.

Pete frowns, hurt. “Women dig me. Get used to it.”

Chloe frowns right back. “No,” she says, looking at Jodi’s retreating back. “I meant Jodi. It’s like she lost that weight overnight.”

Clara looks over at Jodi in concern, but seeing her clearly joyful demeanor, she smiles and shrugs. “She’s probably been steadily losing the weight but it wasn’t obvious until she got herself new clothes that fit well.”

Chloe doesn’t lose the suspicious look in her eyes, but she readily follows Clara and Pete to the school bus.

***

Having been thoroughly derailed in her attempts to speak with Chloe about Sean, Clara opts to get her chores done and out of the way before heading for the Beanery, in hopes of catching up with the blonde once she’s finished with her article for _The_ _Torch_.

If she hopes to see Lex there, it’s no one else’s business but her own.

Through the large front window, she sees Lana and Whitney sitting at a table together. As she enters, she overhears them planning to go to Metropolis to take in an exhibit at the museum – no doubt Whitney’s gift for Lana’s birthday.

Clara can’t disguise her look of longing. The only time she’d gotten to see the big city had been when she’d gone shopping for her dress for homecoming, and they’d been so pressed for time that she’d only gotten to see the city in passing.

Lana, mistakenly believing her expression is for the museum brochure she’s holding, offers it to her.

“And don’t worry, the exhibit is going to be open for several more weeks,” she says reassuringly as she and Whitney make their way out of the Beanery.

“Thanks.” Clara’s smile is tight. Considering her parents’ current financial troubles, there’s no way she’d be able to afford to go to Metropolis let alone to a museum.

Still, she can’t help but leaf through the booklet. Given her alien origins, she’s always found human history fascinating, and the tantalizing bits of information she’s getting from the brochure has her eager to go to the library and see if they have any books on them that she can borrow.

“That’s a great exhibit. I caught it in St. Petersburg.”

“Lex!” Clara greets him with a smile, before looking wistfully down at the brochure and setting it aside.

He glances at it pointedly. “What’s up? You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that. It’s just not the best time right now, is all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s definitely worth seeing. It’ll be in Metropolis for a few more weeks – maybe you’ll still get to go.”

“Maybe,” she says rather doubtfully before shaking her head. “So how have you been?”

“Busy. You? Save any more lives lately?”

Clara laughs, her smile shy. “Nope. Guess my days as a budding hero are over.”

Lex puts his elbows on the table and leans closer. “What about dating? Do you have your eye on anyone or are you still crushing on the quarterback?”

Clara blushes even as she rolls her eyes. “I don’t have a crush on Whitney, Lex.”

“You know, you could ask him out,” he says, pointedly ignoring her denial.

“First of all, I’m not interested. Second of all, he’s got a girlfriend, Lex.”

“A high school girlfriend isn’t a wife. She’s an obstacle. You know, I bet if you ask Whitney to go with you to the Radiohead concert in Metropolis tomorrow, he’ll say yes.”

She scoffs. “And if he says yes?”

“I’ll give you the tickets.” Like a magician, Lex pulls the very item in question out of his inside jacket pocket.

She looks at the tickets before looking back at him. She narrows her eyes thoughtfully. “Why are you doing this?”

“You’re like the younger sibling I never had. I figure someone should benefit from my experience.”

Clara barely manages to hide her wince at that. “I’m not interested in Whitney, Lex,” she says again.

“Well then, ask someone else.” Lex looks around the Beanery and nods his head towards a guy sitting by himself in the corner, reading _Doctor Zhivago_. “How about him?”

She groans.

“I’ll raise the bet – you ask someone in the next 60 seconds, you get the tickets and I’ll throw in a round-trip limo ride. Starting,” he adds, making a show of looking down at his watch, “Now.”

She meets his gaze and when he stares at her pointedly, she grabs the tickets. But rather than getting up, she remains seated. She feels queasy and like she might throw up, but maybe it’s time for her to take a risk and try and get her own slice of happiness.

“Hey Lex, you busy tomorrow night?”

When he narrows his eyes, she adds, “See, there’s this thing tomorrow night. It’s a concert, Radiohead, to be exact, and I got a couple of tickets. I was wondering if you’d like to go, you know, with me.”

She can’t read the expression on Lex’s face.

“Clara,” he starts cautiously, and she hurriedly interjects, “Just as friends.”

She has no idea if he believes her, and she prays he accepts it, that she hasn’t just screwed everything up.

Thankfully, Lex gives her a small smile. “Normally I’d love to, Clara, but I have a previous engagement. Why don’t you take another friend with you instead?”

Clara swallows roughly and nods as Lex heads towards the counter to order his coffee. She does her best to maintain her smile when he returns.

***

Despite having known that Lex wouldn’t answer favorably if she ever worked up the courage to ask him out, having put herself out there and actually receiving the “no” – no matter how nicely worded – is beyond painful. Clara isn’t sure how she manages to still have a friendly conversation with Lex before she gives the excuse of needing to do her chores to make her escape.  

She contemplates giving the tickets away. If it’d been a different band, it would’ve made a great early anniversary gift for her parents, even if she would’ve felt awkward about the re-gifting. In the end, Clara opts to use the tickets herself since she’s never attended a concert let alone ridden in a limo, and she’d love to do both of those things. And just because she can’t go with Lex doesn’t mean she can’t have a great time with someone else.

Even if it’s with just a friend.

Clara is experimenting with her telescopic vision as she contemplates who to invite when a familiar voice startles her badly enough that she nearly falls out of the loft.

“Earth to Clara? You alright?”

“Chloe, don’t you ever knock?” she snaps once she’s regained her balance. Despite the fact that she wouldn’t have been hurt at all if she’d fallen out the window of the loft, the vertigo she experiences at the sight of the drop still sends her pulse spiking.

She really needs to work on getting over her fear of heights.

Chloe shoots her a wry look. “It’s a barn, Clara.”

She sighs and moves away from the window. “Is there a reason you’re here so early or do you just enjoy busting my chops?”

Chloe smiles sunnily. “A little of both,” she readily admits. “Did you hear about the accident last night? A deer was hit on Route 5.”

Clara shoots her an odd look as she shrugs. “That’s not exactly Wall of Weird material.”

“Check out the paper,” the blonde says, handing it over. “Animal control said that the deer died of causes unknown.”

“So?” Clara asks, passing the paper back.

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Not much unknown about a bumper at 60 miles an hour.”

She bites back a sigh. “I- I’d love to run down theories with you, but I’ve got chores to do.”

When Chloe’s face falls, Clara determinedly looks away and clenches her jaw, refusing to feel guilty. After all, she’s not the one who was flirting and wanting to date a guy who’s done nothing but torment someone who’s supposed to be her best friend. Besides, she has a genuine reason why she can’t – she needs to get her chores done this morning so that she’ll have plenty of time later to get ready for the concert.

As Clara makes her way down the loft stairs, Chloe determinedly follows.

“Well, you or your family knows people at animal control, right?”

“One of the perks of growing up on a farm.”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe we could stop by there before school. You know, you could use your pull, we could take a couple of pictures,” she says, wheedling.

“I can’t, Chloe. I’ve got chores to do.”

Chloe smacks the newspaper against her chest, forcing her to stop. “What’s with you?”

When Clara pointedly stares at her, Chloe bites her lip before looking down. “Never mind. Forget it.”

As the blonde trudges down the rest of the stairs, Clara rolls her eyes at herself as she predictably gives in.

“Chloe, wait.”

***

As they’re walking through the halls of the animal control offices, Chloe remarks, “Very impressive use of pull: Can I use your bathroom?”

“I can’t believe we’re creeping around looking for road kill,” Clara grumbles.

Spotting the deer through the open slats of the window, Chloe stops.

“The deer’s in there.” She tries the doorknob but unsurprisingly it’s locked. “Damn, the door’s locked. Um, I’m gonna go find a maintenance worker.”

As Chloe heads back the way they came, unwilling to waste any more time on this futile endeavor, Clara unlocks the door by shoving her finger through the center of the lock and breaking it.  

“Chloe, it’s open,” she calls out as the doorknob now easily turns.

Chloe returns and looks at the opened door quizzically. “How’d you do that?”

“Kent charm,” Clara says with a shrug.

Chloe eyes the lock with suspicion as she enters, before the sheet covering the deer carcass arrests her gaze. She pulls out her camera as Clara pulls the shades closed.

She fidgets with the camera, making sure all the settings are correctly selected to ensure she’ll get the best photo before elbowing Clara. “Lift it up.”

Clara obligingly lifts the sheet before grimacing. “Looks like jerky.”

Chloe quickly takes a few photos, and when she’s done, Clara covers up the deer with the sheet again.

Chloe looks around, and spotting a sheaf of papers, picks it up and starts reading.

“The lab report says the deer lost something like 80% of its body fat. It’s like it’s been liposuctioned to death.”

“What do you think it is, Chloe, some fat-sucking vampire in town?” Clara remarks facetiously.

Chloe arches her eyebrow. “This _is_ Smallville, Clara, land of the weird, home of the strange.”

She snaps a picture of the report.

***

It’s nearly the end of the school day when Pete finally catches sight of Jodi at her locker. She’s looking even skinnier than before, which only makes him more concerned. He hurries over.

“Jodi, I didn’t see you in class. Are you okay?”

She quickly closes and locks her locker. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She pulls her blue coat more tightly around her body before crossing her arms over her stomach. As she hurriedly walks on, Pete readily follows. “Just stomach flu. I can’t keep anything down.”

“Maybe you should go see the nurse,” he suggests.

Jodi shakes her head. “I’ve got it under control.”

Just then, her stomach growls loud enough that Pete can hear it. He speeds up a little to get in front of her, then turns around to face her to get her to stop walking away from him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says a little snappishly, before gentling her voice. “I just… need to rest up for the party, is all.”

Pete softly smiles at her. “Look. If you don’t feel up to it, I’ll understand.”

Jodi returns his smile and runs her hand down his arm before giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She gives his cheek a quick kiss before walking away. Pete stares after her with a goofy smile on his face, and it isn’t until he’s jostled by the other students that he snaps out of it.

***

When classes are over for the day, Clara closes her locker and looks around to see if she can spot Lana. She’s decided to invite her to the concert as her birthday present. She’s not sure if Lana is a fan of Radiohead, but she knows she’ll undoubtedly appreciate the opportunity to get away from Nell for a few hours.

Not seeing her around, she waves over Pete and Chloe. “Hey, have you guys seen Lana?”

“She’s probably with Whitney. Why, what’s up?”

Clara pulls out the tickets Lex had given her the day before. “I’m going to ask if she wants to come with me to see Radiohead.”

Chloe goes quiet as Pete stares at the concert tickets with envy. “How did you score these?”

“I’m guessing a certain folliclely-challenged individual was behind it,” Chloe remarks blandly.

“Lex hooked me up,” she readily admits.

Pete doesn’t look pleased at the mention of Lex, but he thankfully doesn’t say anything disparaging.

Just then, Sean hurries over in their direction looking rather pale, and makes a beeline for them.

“Maybe this is your chance,” Pete suggests to Chloe. Clara frowns but keeps silent.

Chloe looks hesitant as Sean comes up to her.

“Chloe, don’t I owe you a phone call?” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

“I guess so,” she replies with a small smile.

“Well, what are you doing now?” he asks eagerly.

“Well, I’ve got to put the paper to bed,” Chloe says somewhat reluctantly. Sean’s attention shifts immediately. Ignoring Chloe, he starts to look around.

“Maybe afterwards, we could, you know, do something?” she suggests, but Sean’s attention has already wandered towards Jenna Barnum, his ex.

“Jenna! Jenna, wait up!” he calls out as he hurries towards her.

Chloe’s face falls and Pete stares at her sympathetically. Clara looks away. The burn of anger and hurt at Chloe’s betrayal is tinged with satisfaction at her pain, making Clara feel terrible all around.

“Okay, I was playing barely-hard-to-get. What’s the problem?”

Pete puts his arms around Chloe’s shoulders and steers her towards the _Torch_ office. Clara loiters behind, knowing that in her state, she’s unequal to cheering up Chloe. Seeing Sean chat Jenna up before leading her away with a sly smile on his face, she shakes her head. Chloe is much better off without him, and though it might sound callous, it’s far better she finds out what an ass he is now rather than later.

***

Martha enters the kitchen, dressed smartly in her best button-up wool coat and nicest pants, carrying her favorite handbag over one shoulder and the farm books in tow. She sees Jonathan over at the dining table, with his toolbox open and fixing parts of his motorcycle.

At least he’s put a sheet down under it so that their new table won’t be ruined.

“It’s bad enough you ride that motorcycle, but why do you have to repair it in the house?”

“Because if I didn’t, you’d never have any reason to be angry with me,” he says with a wide grin.

“I’ll trade you,” Martha tells him as she puts down the books and her purse. “Do all the engine work you want, but come with me to Lex’s.”

He sighs. “We’ve already talked about that.”

“I talked, you grunted.”

“I thought I was rather articulate,” he quips.

At the pointed look from Martha, Jonathan says, “Sweetheart, the Luthors have sold out anyone who’s ever trusted them. They don’t know what it means to keep their word.”

“ _They_ is Lex’s father, not him,” she argues.

When Jonathan gets up from the table, she determinedly follows. “Be honest, you’ve never seen him be anything but generous. Arrogant and a little strange, yes, but he’s been a good friend to Clara. We have to at least hear him out.”

He grabs a kitchen towel and begins to wipe the carburetor with it. “Why?” he says flatly.

“We need options, Jonathan. Our home is on the line, our farm,” she reminds him, the desperation in her voice making him feel like the worst husband in the world. His failure has never been so apparent.

Jonathan lets out a tired sigh. Still, despite knowing she’s right, he has trouble agreeing to go. He wonders if it’s because of stubbornness or pride. Knowing him, both, probably.

“You don’t have to like him to listen. Besides, um, I already told him we would come.”

Before Jonathan can react to that, Clara enters the house.

“Hello citizens,” she says with as big a smile as she can muster, and she puts her arms around her parents’ shoulders.

“I’m not familiar with this child. Where’s the moody one, lives upstairs, runs real fast?” Martha says drolly.

“Oh, she’s going to a concert tonight with Lana.”

“A concert, huh?” Jonathan asks.

“Uh huh. Lex hooked me up with two tickets and his limo, and I’m going to take Lana with me as her birthday gift.”

“Oh, he did?” he says flatly.

“It’s okay if I go, right?”

“Well, I guess Lex Luthor has worked out all of our evenings for us,” Jonathan remarks, clearly none too pleased.

Even as Martha rolls her eyes, Clara asks, “What?”

“We’re heading over to Lex’s tonight. He’s asked the farmers of Smallville over for a meeting,” she explains.

Clara’s smile becomes larger and more genuine. Although she doubts Lex’s answer would’ve changed had he not had any plans, she can’t help but feel so much better knowing that Lex hadn’t just been giving her an excuse after all.

***

Although Clara still acutely feels Chloe’s betrayal, she can’t help but recall how much she herself has been neglecting the blonde to spend more time with Lex and Lana. Much as she likes being around Lex – and Lana – Chloe is her best friend, and she really hasn’t been living up to that title lately. And she’s sure that inviting Lana to go to the Radiohead concert with her hasn’t helped matters. It’s not fair for her to complain about Chloe not acting like her best friend when she hasn’t held up her end either.

And so, she calls Chloe.

“I’m really sorry, Chloe,” Clara says in the end.

Letting out a relieved breath, Chloe echoes the apology. “I’m sorry too. And I swear I’m done with Sean.”

Happy to have things back to normal, Clara lets Chloe babble on about her theories over the mystery of the liposuctioned deer when the blonde suddenly changes the topic to her outfit that she’ll be wearing to the concert.

“I refuse to let you go wearing… what you normally wear,” she says.

Clara looks down at herself. She’s wearing a worn, checkered blue flannel shirt that swallows up her body and baggy jeans that her mother’s done her best to make fit.

“You have no sense of style, so it falls on me to pick out an outfit for you.”

Clara wants to protest and say it isn’t like she’s wearing these outfits because she likes them, but she swallows down the words. It’s not that she’s ashamed of her family’s financial situation, exactly, more that she doesn’t want their pity. Besides, her friends don’t know what it’s like. None of them have experienced any financial hardships – with the money the Rosses have earned from the sale of their factory to Lionel Luthor and what Pete’s mom makes being a judge, they are probably the wealthiest family in Smallville. Chloe’s dad also has plenty of money, enough that Chloe never worries about needing a part-time job, and his salary as the plant manager at LuthorCorp Fertilizer Plant Number Three is nothing to scoff at either. And as for Lana, she has the money that her parents left her, and of course Nell earns quite a bit with her flower shop, enough so that she doesn’t even need to sell the Talon Theater despite the old movie house generating no income. Clara already feels pathetic and freakish enough as it is; she doesn’t also need the addition of being the poor friend on top of it all.

Clearing her throat, Clara doesn’t protest when Chloe proclaims she’ll be coming over to help. She figures they can make a good time of it, trying on different outfits and applying make-up, like in those movies and television shows.

Of course, nothing like that happens when Chloe comes by. She patently ignores Clara as she gathers her best outfit options, busily typing on her laptop.

Clara sighs. “I thought you came over for fashion advice.”

Chloe looks up and sees a checkered button-up shirt in various shades of brown that Clara is contemplating. The look on her face says it all.

“Burn that,” she orders as she wrinkles her nose. “What else have you got?”

Clara bites her lip and sighs. Honestly, there really aren’t a lot of options. Her clothes are either too tattered to be worn outside the farm or hand-me-downs from Jonathan. The checkered shirt at least would appear fitted on her.

“I’ll check the laundry basket,” she says, even as she knows it’s pointless.

As Chloe rolls her eyes, muttering about Clara’s hopelessness before returning to her laptop, her cell phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey Chloe.”

Despite the earlier brush-off, Chloe can’t help but smile. “Sean, hi.”

“Don’t I owe you a phone call?”

***

As soon as she hangs up, Chloe hurries over to where Clara is sorting through the clean laundry.

She excitedly says, “Guess who just called me? Sean.”

Clara doesn’t share in her excitement. “Did he apologize for blowing you off?”

“He said he wasn’t feeling well,” she explains.

The excuse is flimsy at best, and it’s astounding that Chloe actually swallowed that crap. Clara frowns as she tosses another checkered flannel shirt aside. “Chloe, I saw him go off with Jenna.” She tilts her head knowingly and remarks, “I guess she made him feel better.”

“Well, he- he promised it was completely over with her,” the blonde insists.

She stares for a beat at the way Chloe is fidgeting. “You really like him, don’t you?” She just about manages to hide her horror at that realization.

Chloe looks sheepish as she admits, “He may be a little intellectually challenged and a Neanderthal, but he’s really hot.”

Clara snorts.

“Besides, he begged to get together tonight just to talk-”

“Tonight? Didn’t you swear you were done with him?”

Chloe gives her an apologetic look. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, but I told Sean he could bring me a coffee at the _Torch_.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“It’s not a date. It’s a fact-finding mission to see if he deserves a date,” she proclaims, though her smile clearly betrays her nervousness and guilt.

Seeing the hopeful – and apologetic – expression on Chloe’s face, Clara sighs in resignation. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Chloe squeals and hugs her, before pulling back. “Hey, who knows? Maybe being around me will be enough to turn him into a decent human being.”

A part of Clara is a little mollified at Chloe’s admission of Sean’s assholery.

Seeing a worn white v neck t-shirt and a blue button-up in the basket, Chloe tugs them free.

“Uh, these aren’t _so_ bad,” she says. “Blue is at least a good color on you.”

Clara examines it. The tee is actually one of the few things she owns that fits her, which is why she’s worn it so many times until it’s become transparent. She only really wears it now as an undershirt.

“Guess it’ll be fine if I wear the blue shirt over it.”

Chloe isn’t even listening, too excited over her non-date with Sean for anything else. Clara rolls her eyes and resigns herself to dealing with Sean Kelvin for the foreseeable future.

***

Even though Jonathan is dressed in his best suit – though Martha couldn’t get him to wear a proper button-up shirt or a tie – he can’t help but feel completely out of place as one of Lex’s staff – butler? Didn’t rich people have butlers? – leads them towards the library and opens the doors for them.

“Welcome. I’m delighted you decided to come,” Lex says as they enter. There’s a large fire roaring in the fireplace, and fresh flowers strewn about, as though to mitigate the dark atmosphere and ostentatious statues and other undoubtedly expensive decorations that litter the place.

“Your house, it’s very-”

“Large?” Lex interrupts Martha as he walks towards them with a drink in hand.

“To put it mildly,” Jonathan states.

As Martha looks around in amazement, Lex points out, “The word restraint doesn’t exist in my father’s vocabulary.”

Seeing that they’re the only ones present, she says, “I- I’m sorry, are- are we early?”

Lex swallows a sip of his drink and pauses before looking down at his glass, as though not sure of what to say.

“I think we should go,” Jonathan says.

“Wait, wait, Jonathan,” she says quietly, grabbing his arm, “Just because no one else came-”

“That is if anyone else was even invited,” he retorts.

“Oh, I don’t think Lex would-”

“Actually, I would,” Lex interjects softly. When Martha looks at him in surprise and Jonathan sighs, he adds, “I did. But only because I knew you wouldn’t have come otherwise.”

Lex walks up towards Jonathan. “I know your farm’s in trouble, Mr. Kent.”

When Jonathan whips around, he explains, “Small town.”

Jonathan only becomes more belligerent. “So you thought you would just take advantage of my family’s problem?”

Lex remains calm. “No. I thought I could help.”

Looking at Martha’s pleading face, Jonathan sighs. “Well then, I guess we’re here to listen.”

Lex smiles as he takes another sip of his scotch.

***

Lana had been delighted with her birthday gift, more so with the opportunity to be away from Nell for a few hours than anything else. She doesn’t exactly say she’s not a fan of Radiohead, but as she goes on and on about how much Whitney loves the band and how he’s so jealous of her, Clara gets the gist.

She doesn’t have time to feel miffed, however, for the limo pulls up just then, and Clara can’t help but admire its sleek lines.

The driver actually gets out and opens the door for them. It’s a bit of chivalry Clara hasn’t really experienced – being so tall means she’s the one who’s opening doors and holding them for others, not the other way around – and she gets far more pleasure out of it than she expects.

She gapes around a little at the spacious and luxurious interior. The leather seats beneath her are nice and supple, there’s a screen up for privacy, a sunroof, and incredibly, a bar and a television.

“I’ve never actually sat in a limo before tonight,” Clara says as she looks around in awe. “Are all limos like this?”

Lana gives a minute shrug. “I’m not sure. I don’t really have much experience with limos myself.”

The two of them play around with the various controls, and Clara even manages to open up the sunroof. As she doesn’t feel the cold, she eagerly stands up so that she can stick her head out. She only refrains from whooping with delight by the slightest of margins. Knowing she’s letting the cold air in, she finally sits back down and closes the sunroof.

“That was awesome!”

Lana shoots her a happy smile at her enthusiasm before reaching for the remote to turn on the television. “I wonder if this has satellite TV.”

“ _And in Smallville tonight, police are seeking 17 year old Sean Kelvin after the mysterious death of a fellow Smallville High student Jenna Barnum, whose body was found early this afternoon_.”

Clara whips her head towards the screen and sees a photo of Jenna next to the reporter.

“Oh my God,” Lana gasps out in horror.

“Stop the car!” Clara orders.

She barely waits for the driver to stop before she opens the door and hurries out.

“Clara, what’s wrong?”

“Chloe. She was hoping to hear from Sean tonight,” she says, knowing that is a better explanation than anything else she could say. If she gives any indication that Chloe might be meeting up with him, Lana might call the police and they’ll definitely get in the way. Clara isn’t sure what Sean’s power is, exactly, but if he could do that to a deer, then the police probably won’t be able to handle him. “She might need a friend when she hears the news report.”

She thrusts the concert tickets at Lana. “Why don’t you still go? It’s your birthday present. You should still get some reprieve from Nell and have fun tonight.”

Lana hesitates. “You sure?”

Clara tries to smile. “Weren’t you telling me Whitney would love to see Radiohead?”

At that, she takes the tickets. “All right, if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

With that, Clara runs off, and as soon as she’s out of sight, speeds towards the _Torch_ office.

***

As Chloe is working diligently on the layout of the next issue of _The_ _Torch_ , she hears a noise that could be a knock. Eager to take a break, she gets up from her seat and heads towards the door.

“Sean? Hello? Is that you?”

She doesn’t see anyone when she opens the door, but there’s a huge arrow pointing downwards across from her. When she looks down, she sees a trail of yellow flower petals leading down the hall.

Utterly charmed, Chloe can’t help but smile. “Okay, this is interesting.”

She slowly follows along the trail of petals, eager anticipation building in her stomach. She’s eventually led to the pool where there is a sign saying “COME IN PLEASE” taped to the door. She peeks in through the window but doesn’t see anyone inside.

As she walks in, she says coyly, “Sean? What’s going on? I agreed to a cappuccino.” She pauses before adding, “If you think I’m skinny-dipping with you, try again, buddy.”

Suddenly the pool door slams shut behind her. When Chloe whips around, she’s startled to see Sean looking blue with what looks like ice forming over his skin. When he locks the door, it rings rather ominously.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. I don’t have a choice.”

“What happened to you?” she gasps out.

He hunches over as he carefully approaches her. “I can’t stay warm.”

Chloe slowly backs away. “Why don’t you just sit by a fire?”

“Because I only get a quick fix. Body heat lasts longer.”

As he lunges, she steps back but she’s run out of the tiled floor and instead falls into the pool. Chloe resurfaces and as she desperately swims across to the other side, Sean leans forward and begins to suck the heat out of the water, quickly turning it into ice. Despite her efforts, she’s not fast enough and as she tries to lift herself out of the pool, her left foot gets trapped in the forming ice.

As Chloe desperately tries to pull her foot out, Sean slowly walks across the surface of the now frozen pool towards her.

“I promise it won’t hurt, Chloe,” he says, which doesn’t reassure her at all.

Thankfully for her, Clara arrives just then and tries to open the door, only to find it locked. Hearing the noise, Chloe looks over and sees her.

“Clara!” she begs.

Sean turns his head just in time to see Clara forcing the locked door open. Pleased he’ll have another body to get heat from, he just watches with a smile as she runs towards Chloe.

“Clara help!”

“You okay?”

“My foot’s stuck,” Chloe pants out.

To Sean’s surprise, Clara is able to smash through the ice with her fist and free Chloe’s foot. As she’s pulling her up, Sean runs forward and grabs onto Clara’s coat-covered arm. Clara turns around and forcefully shoves Sean, sending him flying towards the other side. She quickly follows it up with her artic breath so that his feet are iced over and stuck to the frozen pool.

“What the hell?” he cries out as his attempts to free himself get nowhere. “What did you do, you bitch?”

She doesn’t bother responding. She instead helps Chloe stand up. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Chloe replies breathlessly, still clearly rattled.

Clara bends over so that Chloe can sling her arm around her shoulders, and she helps bear her weight so that she can walk.

They both ignore the increasingly profanity-laced diatribe from Sean.

“Go! Run!” Clara shouts to Chloe once the blonde is safely out in the hallway. Knowing better than to leave a likely murderer behind, she heads back to the pool and to where he’s still trapped. She socks him in the jaw hard enough to knock him out.

“Clara?” Chloe sounds almost hesitant, and Clara quickly stands back up.

“Come on, let’s get you warmed up and call the police.”

***

They head straight for the _Torch_ office. As Chloe searches for answers while huddled under a blanket Clara fetches from the nurse’s office in a desperate attempt to not think about her near death, Clara calls the police. After, she breaks into the teacher’s lounge to make some coffee for Chloe.

As Clara hands her a mug of hot coffee, Chloe asks, “Did I thank you for that rescue yet?”

Clara perches on the edge of Chloe’s desk. “I heard about Jenna on the news and I didn’t want you to be next.”

Chloe snorts at herself. “Well, I finally find a guy I like and he turns out to be homicidal. Guess I should’ve listened to you about him, huh?”

“You deserved a lot better than Sean even before he… tried to kill you.”

Chloe’s lips twitch. “That’s sweet. I think.”

“Any idea what happened to him?”

“The only similar thing I can find is a medical condition where there’s damage to the thermosensitive cells in the brain. The person literally can’t stay warm. It’s like a permanent case of hypothermia.”

Clara peers at the article over Chloe’s shoulder. “So Sean’s getting his heat where he can take it.”

“Yeah, preferably from high school girls. You saw the pool. You take the heat out of water, you get ice. He’s like a battery that can’t hold its charge. The only thing I can’t figure out is how the whole deer situation relates to this.”

Hearing the sirens, Clara stands up. “Come on, we need to get you home.”

“Sean-”

“- is out cold and the cops and EMTs are almost here. Let them handle it.”

“Should’ve known better than to put dicks before chicks,” Chloe bemoans as Clara stutters out a laugh. “Lemme tell you, almost getting my heat sucked out? Not a fun experience.”

Clara snorts at that. “I bet.”

“From now on, it’s besties before testes for me.”

Clara groans.

***

Clara soon regrets not sticking around, as apparently by the time the cops and the ambulance arrive, Sean is nowhere to be seen. How he was able to regain consciousness so soon and break free of the ice, she doesn’t know, since as far as she can tell he doesn’t have super strength like Tina.

At least she manages to get Chloe home safely.

Clara heads towards Main Street, figuring Sean would want to be around where he’d be more likely to find bodies to steal heat from, but he’s nowhere to be found. She’s contemplating just waiting out for him in the Beanery when she sees the lights flicker indicating power fluctuations. Realizing Sean must be getting his heat from the Power Relay Station, she speeds away.

Unfortunately, the Power Relay Station is empty by the time Clara arrives. The only evidence of Sean’s presence is the iced-over lock and the torn cables, which are completely frozen.

“Where are you, Sean?” she mumbles under her breath as she looks around to see where he might have gone to next.

The bright lights in the distance is like a beacon in the darkness. It doesn’t take her long to realize it’s the Luthor Mansion, where her parents and Lex are.

Eyes wide with alarm, Clara zips straight over.

***

Meanwhile, in the library at Luthor Mansion, the lights too also go out before coming back up.

“Guess the generator works. Power must have blown. Where were we?” Lex asks Jonathan.

“I believe you were explaining how you could, uh, singlehandedly save the family farmer,” he says, before roughly swallowing the drink in his hand.

“Jonathan,” Martha chastises from her seat on the couch.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Kent. I understand your husband’s skepticism.” Lex’s tone is sharp as he turns and speaks to Jonathan’s back. “Your farm’s drowning in debt, we both know it. All I’m trying to do is offer you a hand but you keep slapping it away.”

“I learned a long time ago from a man much smarter than myself that you need to solve your own problems.”

“Your father lived in different times,” Lex points out. “And he had his share of help.”

As Jonathan stares at him suspiciously, Lex walks over to a table and grabs a file. “It seems government subsidies carried him through a number of lean years.”

Martha rises and reaches for the file as Jonathan looks at the papers over her shoulder.

“Where did you get these?” she asks.

“It’s a matter of public record,” he explains. When both Kents look at him in askance, Lex says almost exasperatedly, “I’m making a business offer. I had to do my due diligence.”

Jonathan remains unmoved. “Why are you so interested in our family, Lex?”

Lex almost sighs. “Your daughter brought me back from the dead, Mr. Kent. When she reached in and pulled me out, she gave me a new life.” Unwilling to say anything more, he turns it around on Jonathan instead. Looking him straight in the eye, he asks, “Your father put his family’s future over his own pride. Are you willing to do the same?”

Jonathan looks away, swallowing roughly. No doubt that one hit very close to home. Lex watches patiently as Martha leads her husband back to the couch before handing over his proposal and explaining the minute details.

As he strokes the fire with a fire poker, Martha repeats, “So you would give us the latest farming equipment and technology.”

“All in exchange for our independence,” Jonathan retorts.

Lex puts the fire poker back in its stand before he gives into the urge to hit the man in the head with it. “My influence will be minimal but existing, yes. It’s a partnership,” he reiterates, as he heads over to the drinks table.

“We could get a loan,” Jonathan points out.

“Or you could allow me to help you get to the point where you never need someone like me again,” he states as he pours them 3 snifters of brandy.

Martha looks at him before turning back to Jonathan. “I’ll admit, it looks generous.”

Lex doesn’t equivocate. “It is.”

As he brings over two of the snifters to them, Jonathan asks, “Which begs the question – what does Lex Luthor get out of all this?”

Lex holds out the glasses. Although Martha readily accepts hers, Jonathan refrains from taking it from him. “I believe there’s profit to be made. I’m not exactly in the charity business.”

“Like father like son,” Jonathan contemptuously retorts.

Lex forces himself to not react despite knowing Jonathan would’ve still scorned him had his answer been the exact opposite. He just firmly reminds himself that he’s doing this for Clara.

As Lex is about to turn back to the table to grab his own drink, Jonathan finally accepts the snifter of brandy when Martha jabs him in the side with her elbow.

“Take some time to think about it. I’m sure you’ll see the benefits outweigh your other options. To the future,” he toasts.

Just then, the lights flicker before going out altogether. The fire ensures there’s enough light to see by, but Lex puts his drink down and heads towards where his staff put the emergency kit to grab some flashlights.

He hands two of them to Jonathan and Martha. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Jonathan replies rather sullenly.

Lex holds back the urge to throttle him and instead shoots him a cool smile. “I’m just going to go check on the generator. I’ll leave the two of you to discuss my offer.”

With that, he leaves the library.

***

Lex waves off his staff and decides to check out the generator himself. After having been holed up with Jonathan Kent for what feels like days, he needs a break and some fresh air. He heads to the side of the house where the generator is located, and is startled to find that it’s completely encased in ice.

“What the hell?”

“Hello,” comes a voice from behind him.

Although it could just be the weak light from the flashlight that’s playing tricks on him, Lex swears the boy has what looks like blue skin and ice particles all over his face.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? This is a private property,” Lex sternly warns him.

“I’m Sean, and I just want to get warm.”

“Get away from him, Sean,” Clara says as she runs towards them to stand beside Lex.

“Clara,” Lex greets with surprise. “Shouldn’t you be fifth row center right about now?”

“Go in the house, Lex,” she tells him. When it looks like he’ll argue, she squeezes his hands. “Please. Go, now!”

He narrows his eyes. “If you’re in some kind of trouble-”

Realizing that trying to convince Lex to head for safety without her would be futile, she instead turns to Sean.

“Sean, you have to get to a hospital.”

“What are they going to do? Put me under an electric blanket?” he says disdainfully. “I need heat, Kent, contact! That’s the only thing that’s going to work for me. Every person’s another fix.”

“You’re not getting Lex and you’re not getting into that house,” she tells him.

“Who’s gonna stop me? You? Ooh! Brr!” he shivers mockingly before throwing a punch.

Clara ducks, and grabbing a metal pipe next to the frozen generator, she hits him over the head in hopes of knocking him out again. When he crumbles, she turns to Lex.  

“Lex, run!”

Unfortunately for her, Sean isn’t knocked out, and he uses her distraction to grab her legs. She can feel the chill emanating from where he’s sucking the heat out of her using his hands, and she once again uses the pipe to strike his arms until he’s forced to let go.

Hoping he’ll chase her rather than go after Lex, Clara runs into the woods surrounding the Luthor Mansion. Hearing his footsteps, she speeds on ahead until she finds herself by Hob’s Pond. She turns around and uses her x-ray vision to scan the woods in front of her, and is horrified when she sees two bodies heading her way, with Lex getting closer to Sean.

Knowing she can’t let Sean find Lex, she heads directly for him.

“Sean, you need help,” she tries again.

He isn’t listening. Instead, he sucks in deeply, and Clara swears she can feel the heat leaving her body.

“I don’t know what it is about you, Kent, but I haven’t felt this good in two days. And when I’m done with you, there’s your mom, your dad, and _Lex_ ,” he says, mocking the way she says his name.

She backs away but he keeps taking deep breaths, and for the first time, Clara feels genuinely cold. Deciding she can’t keep going like this, she decides to use fire with fire – or in this case, ice with ice.

“I’ll never let you hurt them,” she says, before taking a deep breath of her own and blowing it out at him.

As Sean jerks away, he stumbles and grabs onto her arm. Clara flings him away from her before he can suck out even more of her body heat, and he splashes into the middle of the pond. As Clara watches, the water freezes from where Sean fell in, until the entire pond is frozen solid in mere seconds.

“Clara! Clara!”

Snapping out of it, she runs back towards Lex. When he sees her, he hugs her tightly.

“Are you all right?” he demands.

“I’m fine, Lex,” she tells him, even as she finds herself burrowing in a little closer. She tells herself it’s because she’s still cold.

He rubs his hands over her arms, trying to warm her up. “What was that all about?”

“It’s a long story. Can we go inside? I want to see my parents.”

“Of course,” he says, and she leans against his shoulder as they walk back to the mansion.

***

The next morning, Lex enters the barn where Jonathan is working on his motorcycle. His steps ring loudly in the silence.

“Morning. I heard you took out a bank loan today.”

Jonathan lets out a silent sigh. “Did you?” he says flatly.

“After our conversation last night, I was… frankly surprised. You despise me that much?”

He looks up at that. “Believe it or not, Lex, some things actually have nothing to do with you. I decided to bet on my family.”

Lex can’t let that stand. “You’re betting with Clara’s future,” he argues. “I’m just trying to ensure it.”

“Yeah, well so am I.”

He can’t believe Jonathan’s stubborn pride. “With the bank? They’ll kill you with interest while waiting for you to fail,” he points out, feeling like he’s rather stating the obvious.

Jonathan looks at Lex straight in the eye. “At least with the bank, I know where I stand.”

Lex doesn’t release the utter sigh of frustration that wants to escape. “I know you don’t believe me, but I genuinely want to help you.”

Jonathan nods, but it’s clear the words are falling on deaf ears.

He bites back a lot of choice words. Instead, he forces himself to say, “When you change your mind, my offer still stands.”

And with that, Lex strides out of the barn.

***

The mood at school that morning is somber with the news of Dustin’s death and Jenna’s murder. Unlike Dustin, whose bullying tendencies hadn’t really endeared him to many people, Jenna had been popular enough that most of the student population is in mourning. There’s even a shrine set up for Jenna near her locker, where a smiling photo of her is taped to the wall, with cards stuck all around it. The tabletop is littered with flowers, cards, stuffed animals, and candles. Chloe lights another candle before placing it on the shrine as Clara and Pete walk up.

“You okay?” she asks Chloe.

Her voice is quiet. “Yeah. I was just thinking how that could have been me. All because some guy expressed some modicum of interest in me,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I thought I was stronger than that.”

Pete soothingly runs his hand up and down her arm as they head towards homeroom.

Clara says, “Everybody’s searching for their soul mate, Chloe. It’s not a sign of weakness.”

Chloe exhales before remarking, “I’m swearing off men.”

“Hey, we’re not all bad,” Pete objects. “Maybe you should just swear off heat seeking assholes.” He then proceeds to poke Chloe’s ticklish spots until she laughs.

“Yeah well, the next time a guy asks me out, I’m definitely doing an in-depth background check.”

“Probably a good idea,” Clara echoes, “Especially in Smallville.”

Chloe turns gimlet eyes on Pete. “Want me to check out Jodi, make sure she’s not a homicidal maniac?”

“I’ll have you know that unlike you, I have impeccable taste,” he says, sticking his nose in the air.

“Oh, it’s on,” Chloe says, and Pete runs away from her.

Clara eyes their antics with a fond smile before continuing to make her way to class.

***

Their homeroom teacher announces that all classes for the day have been cancelled due to the horrific deaths of two of their own. She informs them that they’ll instead be assigned to a study group for that morning, with the school to be adjourned early just after lunch.

Chloe and Clara are thankfully assigned to the same study group, along with Jodi, which gives them plenty of opportunity to discuss Dustin’s weird manner of death.

“So time to revisit the fat-sucking vampire theory?”

Dustin’s body, which seemingly had all the fat sucked out of it, had been found that morning in the school boiler room by a janitor. It’s left everyone baffled and not a little horrified, and the whole situation certainly has Clara more than a little concerned, especially since Dustin’s death is unlikely to have been caused by Sean.

“Come on, let’s get Jodi and see if she’ll mind if we move to the _Torch_ office for some research.”

When they don’t see the redhead in the homeroom – and in fact, neither of them can even recall seeing her that morning – they shrug and head directly for the _Torch_ office.

“So why would anybody want to steal body fat?”

“I know, it takes eating disorders to a whole new level,” Chloe comments.

Researching doesn’t really get them anywhere, however, and they’re eventually busted by Principal Kwan, who orders them to get to the cafeteria as it’s lunchtime. Although neither of them have much of an appetite, they obediently make their way over. And seeing Jodi sitting by herself, they head towards her.

To their surprise, unlike all the other students who are a little too uneasy and in shock to eat anything, Jodi is surprisingly sitting with a lot of food in front of her. She has two full plates of meals along with piles of dessert, and it’s not just for show.

“Jodi,” Clara greets.

“Hi guys. What’s up?” she says through a mouthful of food.

“Uh, study group, remember?” Chloe asks.

Jodi looks surprised. “Totally slipped my mind.”

But instead of apologizing or showing any sort of disquiet over the deaths, she returns to her plate where she’s busy cutting up the chicken.

“So, no more veggie shakes, huh?” Chloe prompts, before exchanging a concerned look with Clara at the way Jody is devouring her food, barely chewing anything before swallowing it down.

“Are you feeling okay?” Clara asks gently. “Pete said you felt sick yesterday.”

“Oh that. I’m fully recovered,” she reassures them before turning back to her food.

“I guess it’s safe to say that the diet’s finally over,” Chloe tries again.

Jodi says with her mouth full, “Mmm, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything all morning.”

When she looks up and sees their concerned expressions, she pauses. “I’m just a little nervous about the party tonight.”

Chloe nods, as though to show that she understands, even if it’s clear she doesn’t. Clara doesn’t either. In fact, she thinks it isn’t right to celebrate when two people have died, but Nell is refusing to cancel the party, insisting that it won’t do anyone any good to be alone and wallow, and that a party will be just the thing to cheer up the students of Smallville High. Clara knows that many of the students won’t be attending, and if she wouldn’t feel guilty for ditching, she wouldn’t be going either.

Jodi continues to stuff her face from her two full plates of burger and fries and chicken and potato salad, before swallowing down a scoop of pudding. She’s eating way too fast that Clara doubts she’s even tasting the food, as otherwise she has a feeling there’d be no way she’d be mixing potato salad and pudding in the same mouthful. Clara can speed eat as well, of course, but she actually speed chews so her food is completely digestible when she swallows.

“Jodi…”

She reluctantly pulls away from her plates of food to meet their gazes. When she realizes she’s making a mess of herself, she grows self-conscious. She quickly grabs the napkins and wipes her mouth – doing her best to ignore the spatters on her shirt – and grabs two of the Ho Hos.

“Um, I’ll see you guys tonight.”

Chloe watches her go before turning back to Clara. “Okay, what was that about?”

Clara stares at Jodi in concern. “I don’t know.”

Seeing the time on the wall clock, she stands. “I gotta get going. We’ll talk about this later?”

“Okay,” Chloe answers distractedly.

***

When Clara shows up at the mansion, Lana is nowhere to be seen. Lana had begged her to come and offer her support that afternoon before the party, and despite her reluctance, she’d agreed and had shown up on time. Except Lana isn’t anywhere to be found, to her – and Nell’s – frustrations.

Still, Clara can understand. If people died before her birthday party, she’d be more than a little freaked out too.

She watches from the balcony at the hubbub going on below in the ballroom. Plenty of balloons and streamers are already up, cheerful bursts of white and pink everywhere, but Nell frowns at them, clearly displeased. Clara wonders if she is regretting insisting on going through with the party.

“What do you think?” Lex asks as he approaches.

“It’s really… something.”

His lips quirk into a smile. “It’s what the birthday girl wants.”

Clara shrugs. “I’m not sure about that. She seemed very anti-birthday, even before… everything.”

Lex’s eyebrow rises. “And you don’t approve?”

She eyes the staff working furiously to put it all together, Nell overseeing everything carefully, all so that Lana can have a great time. Except she’ll likely not even enjoy or appreciate their efforts, and Clara knows it won’t be because of the deaths of Dustin and Jenna.

“I just think… if she didn’t want all this, she should’ve said so from the beginning and spared Nell and you some grief. And since she didn’t, she should just suck it up and enjoy it. Not everyone gets to have these magical birthday parties, you know? And she doesn’t even seem to appreciate that fact at all.”

Clara sighs, realizing how jealous and whiny she sounds. She shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m just not in the right mood, I guess.”

“Clara, you don’t have to apologize to me for speaking your mind.”

She looks down at the ballroom before saying, “I think I’m gonna head home, get ready for the party.”

Lex gently touches her arm. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m just feeling a little sorry for myself, which is ridiculous.”

Seeing the concern in his eyes, she lets out a sigh. “I’ve never had a real birthday party, and I’ve never been to one either. But it’s stupid. I have my parents, friends, you… Everything else is just trappings and I don’t need them to be happy.”

At that, her smile becomes a little more genuine. She turns to go home before abruptly turning back.

“Hey Lex, save me a dance?”

His eyes widen in surprise but he nods all the same.

***

Clara is making her way down the stairs in her homecoming dress, which she and her mom have done their best to painstakingly repair since she couldn’t afford a new outfit just for Lana’s birthday party, when Chloe walks into the house in a rush.

“Clara, you have to take a look at this,” she says when she spots her, and holds out a piece of yellow paper.

Clara frowns. “Chloe, why aren’t you dressed?”

“I didn’t have time. Clara, you really, really need to check this out,” she stresses, and Clara takes the paper.

“ _Body and fender, replaced windshield, replaced side panels. Cause of accident: Impact with deer_ ,” she reads aloud.

“It was Jodi’s car,” Chloe tells her.

Clara frowns. “What do you think happened to her?”

“Her house is built right next to one of the big meteor hits.”

Clara’s eyes widen. “And she lost all that weight by drinking juice from vegetables grown in the soil in her greenhouse.”

“It must have done something to her metabolism. She’s losing weight too fast to keep up with regular food.”

“And that’s why she needs body fat.”

“Exactly,” Chloe says.

“We need to find her.”

“Jodi wouldn’t let anything keep her from getting to that party,” Chloe reminds her.

It hits Clara. “Pete.” She turns to Chloe. “You go get dressed – I’ll get Pete.”

***

Unfortunately for Clara, Pete’s already at Jodi’s house. He’s holding a bouquet of roses, and when Jodi opens the door, he’s taken aback by how beautiful she looks in her form-fitting red dress.

“Whoa. Hi.”

Jodi happily greets him. “Hi.”

“Perfect flowers for a perfect date,” he says charmingly as he offers her the bouquet.

She takes them with a wide smile and as she goes inside to turn out the lights, Pete takes the opportunity to check out his reflection in the glass window and make sure everything’s in place.

Once she shuts the door, they slowly walk towards his car.

“They’re beautiful, Pete,” she tells him, admiring the roses before lifting the bouquet to take in their scent.

“So’s that dress,” he says, gallantly offering her his arm.

“Thanks. It was my mom’s.”

As Pete pulls the car keys out of his suit pocket, Jodi’s stomach rumbles. She stops dead in her tracks.

Feeling Jodi pull her arm out from his, he turns around. “Something wrong?”

“I’m fine. I just need to eat.”

When her stomach rumbles again, he looks concerned. “That doesn’t sound right. Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

He tries to lead her to the car but she jerks away and backs up to the house.

“You’ve always been good to me, Pete,” she tells him, clearly distressed, before she turns and runs towards her front door. “Please, go away now!”

“Jodi!” Pete calls out after her.

She opens the door. “Go away,” she orders before slamming the door shut behind her and locking it.

“Jodi, wait!”

Unfortunately for her, Pete doesn’t leave. Instead, he stands on her doorstep and keeps knocking on the door.

“Jodi. Jodi, come on! Jodi!”

When she refuses to answer, he tries to force open the door. Unfortunately he doesn’t have any luck, and his efforts only leave him with a bruised arm and an aching shoulder. He considers leaving and maybe calling someone for help, but all he has are suspicions and he doesn’t want to get Jodi into trouble.

When knocking doesn’t get him anywhere, Pete decides to see if there’s another way into the house. Seeing the glass doors that lead to the kitchen, he tries and smiles when the glass door slides open easily.

“Jodi? Jodi, where are you?”

She’s curled up in a corner on the tiled floor of the kitchen, her head balanced on top of her knees. The bouquet of flowers he’s given her lie on the floor beside her.

She cries, “Pete, please get away!”

“Jodi?” he says, approaching slowly, trying to see where everything is in the dark.

“Pete, please, go home.”

“Come on, Jodi, you don’t have to hide,” he says as gently as he can.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Come on, Jodi, you couldn’t hurt a-” he stops when he at last sees her. He again hears a loud rumbling.

“I just wanted to be skinny,” she says with a sob. “There’s only so much a person can take.”

“Just tell me what’s happening.”

“Please leave,” she begs him.

But he doesn’t, and when she looks up and sees him standing there, her expression changes. Looking nothing like the smiling, happy face of earlier, Jodi stands and forcefully shoves him down onto the floor. Pete hits his head on the tile and is knocked out. When Jodi slowly crouches down over him, her mouth opens wide, wider than is humanly possible, getting ready to drain the fat from Pete’s body.

Just then, Clara slams through the front door.

“Jodi? Pete?”

Jodi freezes, and when she realizes what she’d just been about to do, gets up and runs outside. Hearing the clack of heels, Clara heads for the kitchen and sees Pete’s body on the floor.

“Pete, you okay? Pete, what’s wrong?”

He groans but doesn’t otherwise look to be waking up. He’s clearly not up to answering any questions, but a quick scan with her x-ray vision shows Clara that he’s not bleeding and that nothing is broken. He might have a concussion or something, but he’s otherwise going to be okay.

She looks around and seeing the opened glass door, she runs outside. She can’t see Jodi but she sees the large greenhouse. She zips straight over.

“Jodi!” she calls out and hesitates at the threshold of the greenhouse, knowing there are likely plenty of meteor rocks around. Still, knowing she doesn’t have a choice, Clara carefully enters and braces herself for the familiar sensation of weakness and nausea.  

Of course, Jodi sneaks up behind her and smacks her in the back of the head with a shovel. Clara falls to the ground with a cry.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“You’re sick,” Clara says as she struggles to stand. “Whatever you did to yourself, you can get help.”

“All I wanted was to be thin!” Jodi screams as she swings the shovel again, but this time Clara ducks. When Jodi tries again, she catches the shovel by the blade with her hand, only for Jodi to then kick her and send her sprawling away from the door and towards one of the glass walls, and ever closer to the meteor rocks.

“Jodi, this isn’t you,” Clara says as she struggles to get up.

“What, isn’t this what I’m supposed to look like?” she says mockingly.

She then hits Clara in the face with the shovel, knocking her through the glass partition. She raises the shovel over her head, preparing to finish Clara off, but stops when she sees her own reflection in the shards of the broken glass.

“Look at me, I’m a freak,” Jodi says in horror. She turns away. “I know how to stop this for good.”

With that, she uses the shovel to smash a gas pipe, causing gas to start leaking out. Looking around and spying the halogen lamps hanging from the ceiling, she goes to use the shovel to smash them, to cause a spark to ignite and create an explosion.

“No, wait!” Clara shouts as she struggles up. She grabs a hold of Jodi, trying to stop her, but it’s too late. The shovel smashes through the lamps, and the force of Clara trying to pull Jodi back only causes her to topple backwards near a cluster of meteor rocks as the greenhouse explodes around them in a giant inferno.

The noise is enough to fully wake Pete. Rubbing the back of his head, which is throbbing, he slowly walks through the kitchen door to the outside.

“Jodi?” he calls out. When he sees the remnant of the greenhouse, burned out with bits still on fire, he sprints over.

“Clara!” he yells seeing her body lying on the ground. It looks like she’d been flung away by the explosion of the greenhouse. He collapses beside her and his hands flutter over her body, unsure where he could touch without causing more harm.

Clara groans before her body jerks back up, her eyes wide. “Jodi!”

Ignoring Pete trying to restrain her, she rushes over to the greenhouse. The force of the explosion had sent her away from the meteor rocks, allowing her to recover, but unlike her, Jodi didn’t have an invulnerable body.

By the time Pete joins her, Clara has recovered Jodi’s disfigured remains. As he collapses beside her, she squeezes his shoulder in comfort before heading back into the house to call 911.

***

Clara quietly walks through the front door of the Kent home that hardly anyone uses, and shuts it gently behind her. She looks around, hoping she hasn’t alerted either of her parents. The last thing she needs is to be questioned about what happened. But all her attempts at avoidance mean nothing as a worried Jonathan and Martha are already waiting for her in the living room by the fireplace.

They hurriedly stand up from the couch when they see her.

“Clara, what happened? The police called.”

“I’m fine,” she reassures her mother.

Jonathan asks, “How’s Pete?”

“He’s got a serious migraine, but other than that he’s okay. Physically, that is.” Clara sighs. “He really liked her.”

As she collapses onto the couch, her parents sit back down on either side of her. Jonathan pulls her closer as Martha gently runs her fingers over Clara’s hair.

“I’m sorry about the party,” she says. “I know how much you wanted to attend.”

“It would’ve been my first birthday party,” Clara says sadly.

“I know, but Clara, when you do the things you do, helping people, then sometimes you have to make sacrifices,” Jonathan tells her.

“Like birthday parties?”

“Maybe,” Martha answers. “But you made your choice, and I’m sure Pete for one is glad that you chose to save his life. And so are we.”

Clara knows her mother’s right, but not everything from this evening is unsalvageable. She swallows determinedly and gets up.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t have to sacrifice everything,” she says, and rushes out of the house, leaving her parents to stare after her with perplexed looks.

***

Lex is surprised when Clara doesn’t show, and disappointed as well, though he thinks it might’ve been for the best that they didn’t get to dance after all. The last thing he needs is more rumors about him swirling around Smallville, especially ones that pertain to him engaging in inappropriate relations with a minor. He can’t deny that he’s attracted to Clara, but he has no intention of acting on his desires.

Still, without Clara’s presence, Lex finds little interest in remaining at the party, particularly when the mood remains somber despite Nell’s best efforts. And so as soon as he can, he ducks into his study.

By the time Clara enters the mansion, the party has long since ended and only the staff are in the ballroom, cleaning up. When she enters Lex’s study, she sees that she’s surprised him.

“Clara,” he says in greeting. “What brings you by?”

“I’m sorry I missed our dance,” she tells him, fidgeting with her fingers. “I was hoping… that is… Will you dance with me?” she blurts out.

Lex freezes momentarily before he clears his throat and stands. “It’d be my pleasure.”

He turns on the stereo system and a mellow jazz music emanates from the speakers. As they gently sway, he feels her fingers accidentally brushing his neck. He can’t help but shiver. He forces himself to pull away, and as he does, his fingers encounter hers, and just that bare brush of skin on skin causes Clara to shudder in response. When he looks at her, she’s flushed, her face a rosy hue and her eyes a bright blue.

“You’d better get home before you break curfew,” he tells her.

She looks away before nodding. “Thank you for the dance.”

With that, she hurriedly leaves his study. Lex pours himself a finger of scotch and gulps it down, before pouring himself some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Jodi lives in canon and I thought about keeping her alive in this fic as well, but realistically, since Clara as a girl is lighter and smaller than Clark, Jodi's attacks with the shovel should have more of an impact than in the show, since much of her strength is negated by the meteor rocks. Besides, Jodi never makes another appearance in the show, and I much prefer to explore what her death does to Pete and give him more of a spotlight in the future chapters than essentially go on pretending she doesn't exist.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kents' desperate financial troubles leads Martha to seek help from an unexpected quarter, which has a lasting - and unforeseen - impact on their lives. And friendships are tested - including between Clara and Lex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than expected, but I found myself editing old chapters first. Most of the edits are minor so you don't really need to re-read. The only thing I would suggest you glance over again is near the end of the last chapter where the Kents have a conversation about Clara needing to make sacrifices if she intends to continue saving people - EstherCloyse brought up something I hadn't intended at all, so I was hopefully able to fix that. I hope this makes it more clear, EstherCloyse!
> 
> This chapter gave me quite a lot of trouble, and in the end got broken up into two separate chapters because it was so long. Even then I'm not sure if I like how it turned out, but I've been fussing with it for nearly a week now and so I'm letting it be. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter Six

Unsurprisingly, Clara’s dreams that night are full of Lex. In her dream, their dance doesn’t end with Lex sending her home with the embarrassing reminder that she has a curfew; instead, when she shudders after Lex accidentally caresses her fingers, his eyes darken with desire and he kisses her. Dream Lex’s fingertips gently trail up her bare arm and shoulder, leaving goosebumps along the way, only to pause when encountering a gap in the fabric of her dress on her chest. Just when his fingers are about to tease that bare patch of skin, Clara wakes up floating above her bed.

But this time, the resultant crash down to Earth isn’t why Clara groans – this time, it’s due to her utter disappointment at the fact that her fantasy had ended far too soon.

Clara knows of sex, of course – living on a farm means the mechanics involved aren’t news to her, and she’s long since had _the talk_ with her mother. Not to mention that while the computer in her room is ancient with an Internet connection speed that’s glacial, it doesn’t have any parental monitoring and porn isn’t hard to find. And although she’s never had a boyfriend, it isn’t as though she’s never fantasized about being so intimate with someone.

What’s different now is that she isn’t imagining some abstract or imaginary figure but an actual person she knows, someone who’s her friend. It feels like a betrayal of that friendship then to fantasize and dream about Lex in acts he wouldn’t consent to in reality.

Sighing, Clara looks at the clock on her bedside table before groaning once again. It’s far too early to be up, but she knows there’s no way she’ll be able to go back to sleep now. Deciding to at least get her chores done and over with, she reluctantly gets out of bed. But even when her chores are all completed – and at normal speed at that – it’s still too early; so early, in fact, that her parents won’t be stirring awake for another hour.

Rather than heading back into the house, she heads over to the loft and collapses backwards onto the battered couch. With nothing to do, her thoughts inevitably turn back to Lex and her dream. Despite the guilt that arises in the pit of her stomach, she can’t help but recall the touch of his fingers on her bare skin. Shivering at the remembrance of that pleasure, Clara closes her eyes as she caresses the neckline bared by her shirt. She wonders if that’s what Lex’s fingers would feel like on her skin. Recalling her dream, she gently trails her fingers down her chest. At the feel of flannel blocking her way, she huffs and practically tears the shirt off of her. After a beat – and a judicious use of her x-ray vision to ensure she’s completely alone – she takes the undershirt and bra off as well, before awkwardly laying back down.

And proceeds to fidget in discomfort.

Clara finally huffs and mutters to herself, “This is ridiculous!”

Snatching the blanket off the back of the couch and covering herself with it, she sulks in frustration. With the mood effectively ruined, she’s about to get dressed again when a thought – however improbable – comes to her: what if Lex happens to swing by just then and sees her?

Clara blushes. She doesn’t have an exhibitionist streak or anything, and were Lex to happen upon her in reality, she’d be utterly horrified. Yet it’s arousing to imagine herself being watched by Lex as she touches herself, as she trails her fingers down over her navel and the thatch of hair before slowly caressing the most secret part of herself. She doubts she’ll have the guts to spread her legs so that he could have an unobstructed view like those porn stars, but maybe once she’s so far gone into her pleasure, her legs will just naturally part, allowing herself to be splayed bare for his gaze. She wonders if he’ll groan, if he’ll continue to stand there across from her, watching. Or maybe he’ll join her, touch her where she wants to be touched, maybe even lick her-

Feeling her eyes start to burn, Clara opens them. To her surprise, she can feel something emanating from her eyes, almost like a laser beam. Whatever it is, it hits the chair by the mirror, causing it to burst into flames.

Stunned, she remains immobile for a few moments before she finally realizes the fire is real and uses her arctic breath to put it out before it can spread anywhere else. Staring at the scorched remnants of a chair, it’s all she can do to keep still. What, now she can’t even fantasize without setting something on fire? Does that mean she can’t masturbate? How will she date someone, maybe one day marry someone, if she can’t ever-?

“How is this my life?”

***

Martha and Jonathan are clearly startled when they see her awake with her chores already completed when they come downstairs that morning.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Martha lovingly kisses the top of her head as she rounds the kitchen table to make breakfast.

Clara mumbles something unintelligible. She feels despondent at what her new power might mean for the future, but she is certainly far too embarrassed to mention it to her parents. To be fair, her mother has always been open and honest and willing to discuss any of her concerns about her body, and when Clara had had to examine her genitalia with the use of a mirror to determine if there’s a structural reason she isn’t menstruating, Martha had been straightforward and clinical yet reassuring too. But Clara isn’t ready to talk about the newest issue yet, if she ever is. It’s bad enough she won’t ever be able to have any children – even if her alien eggs are viable, considering her general indestructibility, it’s likely her eggs can’t be fertilized by human sperm – now there’s a distinct possibility that she won’t be able to have sex either. Her only hope is that she’s able to master this power like she’s done with the other ones, and that being able to control it somehow means that when she does become aroused, she won’t be setting anything on fire.

Seeing as she has certainly never felt less aroused in her life, she wonders if she’ll have to force herself to masturbate in order to get control over this heat vision. How feasible that is considering the highly flammable nature of everything around her, especially in places where she can be assured of her privacy, she doesn’t know, and the prospect of mandatory masturbation sessions can’t possibly sound less appealing.

Depressed and wanting to be left alone, Clara hopes her parents attribute her mood to being sleep deprived. Her hopes are in vain, however, as rather than letting her be, Martha puts her arm around her.

“Clara, you know that those deaths aren’t your fault,” she says quietly but firmly.

Clara closes her eyes before thunking her head gently onto the tabletop. She’d completely forgotten. She’d been so preoccupied over her feelings for Lex and her newest unwanted power and what that might mean for her future, that she’d forgotten all about the 4 students who had just died.

She feels like the worst kind of scum.

“You can’t save everyone, Clara,” Jonathan tries next. “You did your best-”

“I forgot!” she nearly wails. “How could I forget that people died? I really am an alien!”

“Sweetheart,” Martha says soothingly, “It’s human nature to want to forget the terrible things that happen. It’s just how we protect ourselves. After my mother passed away… there were times when I forgot that she’d died, when her death wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. In those moments I was almost happy, and able to go about my day without being crippled by the loss of my mother. Does that make me a terrible person?”

“No, of course not!”

“And so if there were times I didn’t recall the death of my mother, someone I dearly loved, is it really surprising you couldn’t remember the deaths of those kids when you didn’t even really know them?”

Martha lets that sink in.

“I’m not saying their deaths aren’t any less tragic. But since you didn’t know them, you weren’t directly impacted by their deaths. It’s still terrible, just less personal.”

Clara shakes her head and balks at that. “How can it not be personal? Sean and Jodi were changed by the meteor rocks-”

“You don’t know that, Clara,” Martha interjects. “Your father and I have been talking and-- well, everyone in Smallville has been around these meteor rocks, even us, but you don’t see any of us developing any kind of… abilities.”

Jonathan adds, “Besides, even if you’re right, it still doesn’t make you responsible. Jenna and Dustin died because Sean and Jodi _chose_ to kill them, and Sean and Jodi’s own actions led to their deaths. They could’ve asked for help but they didn’t, and in fact, they actively refused to seek help when given the opportunity. That’s not your fault.”

Clara sighs and leans into Martha’s embrace for a few moments.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” she manages to get out eventually, and she speeds upstairs before they can try and stop her.

***

Although a couple of hours later finds Clara still hiding upstairs in her bedroom, Martha and Jonathan wordlessly decide to leave her be. It’s more than likely she’s brooding, but forcing her to join them for lunch isn’t going to do any good. Besides, considering how early she’d gotten up that morning, it’s possible she is sleeping, and they don’t want to bother her in case she actually is getting some rest.

They do agree that she needs to come down for dinner, however. Wallowing for a couple of hours is all well and good, but any longer than that is unhealthy. Not to mention Clara needs to eat – they doubt she’s had much for breakfast, and she’s already skipped lunch.  

As is habit, Martha is baking her worries out in the kitchen. This time, it’s chocolate chip cookies, and if she hopes Clara is enticed by the smell and voluntarily comes back downstairs… well, surely she can’t be the only parent in the world who has ever bribed their child?

It still takes her by surprise when her plan works even better than she’d hoped.

“Mom?”

Martha quickly looks up from where she’s pulling the last batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven and shoots her a welcoming – and relieved – smile.

“They’re fresh out of the oven,” she says, waving the cookie sheet temptingly.

The sight – and smell – of the cookies has Clara heading straight for the fridge to pull out a bottle of milk. As Martha brings over the cooling rack, Clara grabs two cups and pours milk into them before taking a seat.

Not bothering to get a plate, Clara pops an entire chocolate chip cookie into her mouth, even as Martha admonishes her to let them cool first. She barely finishes chewing the soft cookie before she’s devouring another one, though this time, she washes it all down with milk rather than continuing on. She’s only delaying having a conversation with her mother, and it’s certainly not going to get any easier to bring up even if she eats the entire tray as a stall tactic. And so, she takes a deep breath and decides to rip it off like a Band-Aid.

“I feel almost… relieved that Sean and Jodi aren’t a threat anymore,” Clara lets out in a rush. She hurriedly adds, “I mean, I still feel bad that I couldn’t save them, but I remember how terrible I felt when Emily died. And I don’t feel the same guilt that I did then, and I…”

She trails off, and not sure of what else to say, grabs another cookie for want of something to do. Scared that she’s disappointed her mother, she refuses to look up.

A part of the problem is that she’d saved Jeremy and Tina – and Coach Walt, even if he’d died later in the hospital – and some form of Greg, considering the lack of a body and all those bugs that had come crawling out from under the heavy metal that had fallen on him and had escaped into the woods. And yet she had failed to save Jodi, and her instinctive reaction of flinging Sean away from her in self-defense had inadvertently led to his death. The combination of that and feeling something like relief that Sean and Jodi are dead and are no longer a threat troubles her, to say the least.

Clara had felt tremendous amount of guilt over her failure to save Emily for years despite having done everything she could; and while she feels some sense of regret that she couldn’t save Sean and Jodi, that she doesn’t feel the same remorse now strikes her as… wrong, somehow, considering she bears far more culpability this time around. She tries to tell herself that unlike Emily, Sean and Jodi had tried their best to kill her and her family and friends, and that had she not stopped them, they would’ve succeeded. Not that they hadn’t deserved to be saved just because they’d killed other people, of course, but she had only set out to stop them, nothing more; indeed, she’d tried to get them to seek help. That she’d failed isn’t her fault.

But she still can’t help feeling like she would feel more remorse for her failure to save them had she been human.

Martha’s hand covers her own, stopping her before she picks apart another cookie. Clara at last looks up and meets her mother’s warm gaze.

“Sweetheart, it’s perfectly natural that you feel relief at the absence of a threat to yourself and to your loved ones. Some would probably even feel satisfied at that outcome. That you still feel even a little bit guilty that you couldn’t save them… that makes you far more kind and compassionate than most.”

Clara’s shoulders relax minutely and she nods.  

When it looks like Clara is finished, Martha lovingly squeezes her hand. “Now, finish your snack. Dinner will be in a couple of hours,” she reminds her.

“Thanks mom.”

***

Despite all of her parents’ reassurances, it isn’t until that Monday at school when she realizes she isn’t alone in her feelings of being largely unaffected by the deaths of her fellow students that Clara finds herself truly relieved. Not that she doesn’t believe her parents, of course, but she knows they’re naturally biased towards her because she’s their daughter, and she can’t help but worry that they’re telling her what she wants to hear rather than what’s true. So it allays her fears when she realizes her parents hadn’t just been trying to make her feel better.

As she goes about her day, Clara can’t help but frown at the fact that, aside from Pete, no one appears to miss Jodi. In fact, no one appears to be giving even a thought to her death. Jenna still has her ever-growing shrine, and with everyone so insistent on not speaking ill of the dead, Dustin has more than a few people saying complimentary things about him. Even Sean has his supporters despite being implicated in Jenna’s death, likely because it seems impossible that he could’ve frozen and shattered her body like that. But besides Pete, no one seems to care about Jodi that Clara can’t help but feel rather bad for her and the awful hand she’d been dealt.

That Pete’s taking Jodi’s death particularly hard isn’t surprising, of course. She’d been his first girlfriend – even if their first and only date had ended disastrously – and the loss of that potential has only made him put her on a pedestal, with all the what-ifs becoming even more rose-colored. And so despite knowing Jodi is responsible for Dustin’s murder, Pete can’t help but excuse her actions claiming she’d been justified considering how he’d tormented her for so long. He alienates not a few people by speaking disparagingly of Dustin, since everyone else is trying their best to not speak ill of the dead.

Chloe, however, remains staunchly anti-Jodi – or rather, anti-“meteor freaks,” as she has decided to call them. Sorely disappointed and frustrated to discover that no one appears to be concerned or curious over the bizarre methods of death of their fellow students – after all, it’s not like Dustin’s desiccated corpse or Jenna’s shattered body could’ve been caused by LuthorCorp – Chloe has decided to forcefully remove everyone’s willful blinders by putting together an article about her Wall of Weird in _The Torch_.

“I’m determined to tell everyone the truth about Smallville and its meteor freaks,” Chloe declares when Clara enters the _Torch_ office.

Having hoped to escape the somber mood that had fallen over the school at the appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Barnum, to now find herself having to instead deal with another of Chloe’s obsessive Wall of Weird projects is like having jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Clara frowns.

“Plenty of people in Smallville have been exposed to the meteor rocks yet they aren’t being changed by them,” she points out, repeating her mother’s argument. “Besides, we don’t how Sean got his powers. Maybe it’s not the meteor rocks.”

Chloe rolls her eyes at her seeming naivety. “Crater Lake is one of the sites that got hit, and Sean was tossing around a football by the lake at the party. I asked around, and all the guys said he ran off to catch a ball that got tossed too far. They then got distracted by the arrival of the pizza and returned to the bonfire before Sean brought the ball back. When they didn’t see him, they figured he hooked up with somebody instead. My guess is Sean probably fell through the ice and into the cold, meteor rock-infested water – it certainly explains his desperate need to seek heat. As for why only some of the people exposed turn into meteor freaks…” she taps her lips with her finger and her eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Hmm, well, maybe some people are particularly vulnerable to developing powers and going crazy.”

“But why call them meteor freaks?” Clara asks, discomfited by the term.

Chloe says brightly, “I need a catchy headline. Besides, it’s true. Their powers are freaky and they’re psychotic murderers.”

Clara doesn’t quite know what to say to that. It’s true that these… mutants have displayed homicidal tendencies as well as powers, some more bizarre than others – being able to physically morph their body or ability to summon fire is practically normal when compared to sucking out heat and fat which are definitely on the weird end of the power spectrum, and really, she would know – but she’s not sure if they’ve been there all along and only got exacerbated or if the meteor rocks had fundamentally altered them to such a degree that they in turn developed those murderous impulses.

And a part of her can’t help but wonder what Chloe would call her if she were ever to discover the truth. An elaborate name, like ‘The Biggest Freakshow on Earth’? Or something more simple and to the point, like ‘Alien’?

Swallowing roughly, Clara forces her thoughts to return to the point at hand: meteor rocks and the mutations they cause in humans. Even if the meteor rocks aren’t responsible for altering people in some way, she wants them to be removed and disposed of safely given her particular vulnerability to them. Not only would their permanent absence minimize the risk of her being discovered as an alien, but in the worst-case scenario where she gets kidnapped, she’ll easily be able to escape if her seemingly only weakness is neutralized. Perhaps such thoughts are fantastical, but she’s seen enough sci-fi movies and television shows to be terrified of being some kind of a government lab rat and being dissected and studied.

Unfortunately, however much Clara wants to advise the residents of Smallville to dispose of any meteor rocks they find, the EPA has long declared them to be safe. To argue otherwise after over a decade when nothing of note seems to have occurred will look to be more than a little suspicious. Not to mention telling them to use lead to dispose of them would undoubtedly lead to questions she can’t satisfactorily answer. Clara had actually previously considered creating a large lead box and collecting all the meteor rocks herself and then burying the box deep somewhere; unfortunately, the excruciating pain she feels near them and the sheer magnitude of meteor rock presence in Smallville have scuttled her half-formed plans. Chloe’s article has a good chance of leading to the outcome Clara hopes for, though she can’t help but fear that it will only further jeopardize her secret.

Meanwhile, unwilling to let Chloe’s disparaging comments about Jodi stand, Pete, who had been in the _Torch_ office researching something he’d refused to let Chloe in on, looks up to shoot her a steely glare.

“Jodi wasn’t a meteor freak and she wasn’t a murderer.”

Chloe raises a skeptical eyebrow. “So what was Dustin?”

He glowers at her. “You know how much he’d tormented her-”

She refuses to be cowed. “So that makes it okay? Good to see where your priorities lie.”

“I’m saying it’s understandable,” Pete retorts, doing his best to not shout. “And it wasn’t something she could control – she kept begging me to get away from her.”

She scoffs. “Oh please! You were knocked out on the floor – how else did that happen if Jodi didn’t do it?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Only because Clara chased her away! You would’ve been dead like Dustin if not for Clara, and by the way, when she killed herself, she almost took Clara with her! And all Clara was trying to do was help her! Exactly how are those actions that of a good person, Pete?”

“Hey, leave me out of this,” Clara futilely insists.

Chloe doesn’t even look like she’s heard. “Jodi was a meteor freak who tried to murder you and Clara, and did in fact murder Dustin. No matter what revisionist history you try to peddle, Pete, she was not a saint or a decent human being in the end. So stop singing her praises, especially to someone who’d almost been another murder victim.”

Although a look of guilt flashes across his face, it’s quickly overtaken by fury. Pete storms out of the _Torch_ office without a backward glance as Chloe returns to her newest article, not even bothering to watch him leave.

Clara’s eyes flick between the two of them in indecision. Chloe had been harsh, but she did have a point about Jodi – Clara hadn’t done anything to her yet she’d done her best to beat her to death with a shovel. Had Clara been just a normal human, she would’ve died. Pete would have died. But she can’t help but sympathize with Pete too. All Jodi had really wanted was to lose weight, and for that she’d found herself altered against her will. She’d clearly liked Pete, if the way she’d given him chances to escape is any indication, and she’d probably been the first girl who Pete had liked besides Chloe. It has to be difficult for him to have to reconcile the two disparate images of Jodi – the nice girlfriend and the murderer.

Sighing, Clara decides it’s probably best to leave them both be and instead goes to find Lana. She’s always so calm and collected, and Clara can definitely use some of that zen right about now. Lana’s thankfully not at all hard to find, especially when surrounded by more than a few people handing over belated birthday gifts and apologizing for skipping out on her birthday party.

Lana easily and readily waves those away as she accepts the gifts with a thankful smile. “Honestly, I hadn’t even wanted to be there myself. I still can’t believe Nell refused to just cancel the party.”

Clara jealously eyes the pile of gifts Lana is opening before she forcefully tears her gaze away. She looks at the crowd who are commiserating with her, and frowns. She still can’t believe Lana is being so ungrateful. Nell had no doubt spent so much time and money on the birthday party that cancelling had likely been unthinkable, even if allowing the party to go on had been in poor taste. Perhaps she could have postponed the event, but no doubt that would’ve racked up even more expenses, and really, how long of a wait would have been considered respectful? A couple of days? A week? Few weeks? Perhaps bringing up money at a time like this is crass and insensitive, but why Lana isn’t even trying to understand her aunt’s position is baffling to Clara. If she, who’s not a big fan of Nell, can make the attempt, shouldn’t her niece at least give her the same consideration?

Shaking her head, Clara looks at the clock on the wall and sighs with relief. This interminable day is halfway over, and she’ll soon be able to make her escape.

***

When the bell signaling the end of classes rings at last, Clara speeds home, not bothering to wait for the bus. Martha, being the best mother in the world, already has a mug of hot chocolate and a slice of warm pecan pie waiting for her.  

“Thanks mom,” she says with relief as she takes a fortifying sip.

Martha looks at her with sympathy. “How was school?”

Clara sighs. “Long. Jenna’s parents came by to see the shrine and…” She shakes her head. She hadn’t been there but she’d overheard the students gossiping about it. Mrs. Barnum had fallen apart at the sight of the shrine and had to be physically carried out of the school by her husband.

“The Kelvins are likely going to be moving out of state. Jodi’s father has already packed up his house to move to Metropolis. Maybe the Barnums will do the same.”

Clara can’t help but feel guilty and responsible, and as though she can hear her thoughts, Martha squeezes her arm comfortingly.

“Sweetheart-”

“I know,” she interjects, not wanting to hear her reassurances. She abruptly changes the subject. “Chloe and Pete got into a fight and they’ve yet to make up. I have a feeling it’ll take more than a few days before they’re all friends again.”

“Want me to bake something?”

Clara brings a forkful of pie to her lips. “Maybe? It can’t hurt.”

Martha nods. “I’ll be making strawberry shortcakes for the Beanery tomorrow. I should have enough strawberries for one more.”

“Sounds delicious.” Clara scarfs down the rest of the pie and the hot chocolate. “Thanks mom.”

With that, she heads out to make her deliveries. If she feels butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing Lex again, she staunchly ignores it.

***

Any hopes that Lex hasn’t noticed her crush on him disappears when Clara comes by the mansion to deliver the weekly produce. For the first time since she’s started visiting the mansion, she sees Amy, the housekeeper’s daughter, instead of Mrs. Palmer, and Amy blocks her path when she makes to go to the study.

“Lex isn’t here,” she snootily informs her. “He’s gone off to Metropolis.”

The implied _to get away from you_ is clear from the look Amy shoots her, and Clara blanches.

It isn’t until that moment that Clara realizes Lex has never failed to be present when she swings by, and her stomach clenches in fear and mortification when she realizes what his pointed absence – without letting her know in advance – means.

Too distressed to see the gloating expression on Amy’s face, Clara hurriedly heads for the truck.

As the mansion had been the last delivery stop of the day, Clara has no other excuse to delay returning home. She could try and stop by the Beanery, but she doesn’t have any money and isn’t really in the mood to be around other people.

She tries to put on a happy face when she enters the house, but the looks her parents shoot each other make it clear they’re not fooled. Thankfully, they seem to think she is still troubled over the deaths of her fellow students and her failure to save them, and though she feels guilty for doing so, she eagerly uses that excuse to escape to the loft.

The only good thing about having definitive proof of Lex’s feelings – or lack thereof – for her is that even her subconscious understands how out of line it would be for her to fantasize about Lex when he’s made it clear her feelings aren’t returned, and so Clara’s dreams mercifully remain Lex-free. Between that and her fear that Lex may no longer wish to continue their friendship due to her one-sided crush, mean she doesn’t have another flare-up of her heat vision. She knows she has to get control over it at some point, but she is in no mood to think erotic thoughts let alone try and masturbate.

In the days that follow, for the first time, Clara eagerly listens for any gossip about Lex. She’d always eschewed such chatter for being exaggerations if not outright lies, preferring to actually talk to the man himself rather than skulk about for second- and third-hand accounts – if that – but now that she doesn’t have a convenient excuse to visit the mansion, this is the only way for her to find out if he’s back in town. It sucks because Lex has never made her feel unwelcome in his home; indeed, he has on more than one occasion invited her to drop by whenever she likes. That she’s now hesitating going over to the mansion stems from the fact that she’s no longer so confident of her welcome, and she doesn’t want to get burned again by swinging by only to be turned away once more.

At least if Lex is there, even if it’s awkward, she knows he’ll be unfailingly polite.

It isn’t until Clara keeps an eye – and ear – on Amy and her brother Jeff that she learns Lex has not only returned to Smallville but has been back for a couple of days. The news, rather than cheering her up, actually does the opposite. Although she hasn’t been by the mansion again, she has been going by the Beanery every day, sometimes even multiple times a day. That she hasn’t seen him there despite all of her efforts, and that he’s made no attempts to see her or even call the farm, means he’s purposefully avoiding her.

She doesn’t know if there’s any clearer sign that she’s lost Lex’s friendship than that.

As life more-or-less returns to normal in Smallville High, Clara’s misery only worsens. Of course, most of her fellow students don’t know – or care – enough to notice. And with Chloe and Pete still on the outs, not even speaking a word to each other despite her mother’s delicious strawberry shortcake as a bribe, her friends attribute Clara’s despondency to having to play the middleman, allowing her to go about her days without having to make up excuses or feeling like she’s under a microscope.

Her parents, of course, are another story.

It doesn’t take long before Martha and Jonathan cotton on to the fact that Clara’s unhappiness isn’t due to the deaths of the students nor over her inability to save them. They also can’t help but notice that she isn’t hanging out with Lex as she used to.

“Good,” is all Jonathan says when Martha brings it up.

“Jonathan!”

“What? I’m not sorry they’re drifting apart. I’m glad, as a matter of fact. Ecstatic.”

At the look from his wife, he sighs. “Lex is a Luthor, Martha. You know the kind of danger Clara could be in around him.”

“Jonathan,” she scolds, “Lex has only ever been a good friend to Clara. And she doesn’t exactly have many of those.”

Jonathan feels chagrined at the reminder. He and Martha are the ones responsible for that state of affairs, after all, and while they’d done it to protect her, he can’t help recalling the loneliness that had surrounded Clara until just a year earlier. _Thank god for Chloe Sullivan_ , he thinks with relief.

“Jonathan,” Martha says slowly as a thought occurs to her, “Do you think us turning down Lex’s offer of assistance affected their friendship?”

He frowns. “Not likely.”

“You don’t think we hurt his feelings?”

Jonathan snorts. “What feelings?”

Before Martha can scold him again, he waves his hand. “I know, I know, he didn’t deserve that.”

She sighs. “I don’t think he’s the type to take any offense he might have felt out on Clara, but it can’t not have impacted their friendship in some way.” Martha will feel terrible if they’re the ones who have cost Clara yet another friend.

After a few moments of silence, Jonathan finally says, “It’s most likely because Lex has finally realized he’s a billionaire who has little in common with a teenage girl from Smallville. Their friendship formed because she saved his life and he felt grateful. That gratefulness undoubtedly wore off now and so he dropped the friendship.” If their turning down his business proposal had something to do with that, then all for the better, he can’t help but think.

Martha, however, isn’t so sure of that. She recalls the look on Lex’s face when he’d said Clara had saved his life, and all the efforts he’s gone to help Clara and them by extension. She doubts that kind of devotion is something so easily cast aside.

When she sees Clara mope about after having finished her chores for the day rather than going over to the mansion, Martha decides to step in. If their actions had resulted in this break in their friendship, she’s determined to smooth over any problems and fix it.

“You’re not going over to Lex’s?” Martha asks as nonchalantly as she can.

Clara does her best to suppress her flinch at hearing Lex’s name. Although she’s had time to come to terms with the loss of Lex’s friendship, the wound still feels fresh. The truth of the matter is, even though Lex hadn’t known about her alien origins, he’d still seemed to understand her the best out of all of her friends. The reality of that loss therefore is devastating.

Taking care to look as unbothered as possible, she shrugs. “I have to work on my history project.”

Brows furrowed, Martha watches as Clara heads for the loft. She can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to it.

***

Martha is originally from Metropolis, having been born and raised there, but – as Clara has heard hundreds of times before – when she’d met Jonathan in finance class one day in college, that had been it. Her life in the big city had been readily – and happily – discarded, to follow the man of her dreams.

“I didn’t move to Smallville for action and glamour. I moved because a certain man told me we’d never be rich or travel the world, but he’d always love me. How could I pass up an offer like that?” she would say dreamily.

Still, Clara knows her mother misses Metropolis sometimes. She must, having been a city-girl all her life. If _Clara_ aches to see the sophistication and glamour of the big city, then that must be at least doubly true for someone who grew up there. And she’s sure it doesn’t help that Martha’s life in Smallville hasn’t been all that easy, made more difficult by having to raise an alien daughter.

And so, for their wedding anniversary, Clara decides her parents should go to Metropolis to celebrate.

Martha and Jonathan haven’t really celebrated their anniversary beyond exchanging cards for years now due to their precarious financial situation. But with everything that’s been happening, they certainly deserve some time away from the farm. And Clara can’t help but admit that she needs some time alone too, to come to grips with the loss of Lex’s friendship and her newest power, and what it might mean for her future.

When she broaches the subject before dinner, it’s clear her parents are surprised. They exchange speaking glances, and Clara says before they can object, “I know you’re worried about me, but I’m fine. I just had a crush on someone and found out it wasn’t returned, that’s all. I’ll get over it.”

“Oh, honey.” Martha moves around the table to hug her comfortingly.

Clara allows herself to wallow for a moment in her mother’s warm embrace before pulling back. “It’s okay. Really.”

Jonathan looks like he’s torn between wanting to know the name of this crush so he can take his shotgun and teach the punk a lesson, and forbidding her from having any more crushes on boys. He clearly decides silence is the better part of valor, as beyond a look of sympathy, he remains quiet.

Before Martha can ask whom she’s crushing on, Clara gets back to the topic at hand. “But seriously, Metropolis? You guys could have a wonderful dinner at that restaurant where dad proposed, then spend the weekend in the city relaxing.”

“That does sound wonderful,” Martha admits. “But a weekend away would be too expensive.”

“Just a night away then?” she suggests. “That can’t be that expensive.”

Jonathan looks over at Martha. “We have applied for a loan. That money should be enough to get us through until the summer at least.”

“Are you sure?”

He determinedly nods. “Let’s properly celebrate our anniversary.”

Martha hesitates for only a beat before smiling and enthusiastically kissing her husband.

“Eww, mom, gross!” Clara complains, before laughing and heading off to the loft to give her parents some privacy.

***

Unfortunately for the Kents, not even a day later, the bank turns down their request for a loan. It’s not helped by the fact that the message had just been left on their answering machine where Clara could’ve heard it.

Jonathan, naturally, is furious at the bank’s carelessness, but mostly he’s devastated that there is nothing he can do. The bank has every right to refuse them a loan, after all, and despite having swallowed his pride to personally appeal to Jim Alexander, the bank’s manager, the answer had been a firm “No.”

Jonathan had hoped they might have some time until matters became truly dire, but he’s been at the books for most of the morning and the answer isn’t changing. He wishes they’d thought to wait to buy that new baking oven and additional cookware, but it had seemed like a good investment considering Martha’s growing client list – she’d added 2 convenience stores and the cafeteria at the retirement center, last he’d heard – and he’d been so sure they would be able to get that loan.

“Open your mouth,” Martha tells him, bringing over a muffin, and Jonathan readily does so, the delicious smell of baked goods having sent his stomach growling with hunger for a good 30 minutes already.

“Hey that’s perfect,” he says with as big a smile as he can muster as he swallows. “All we have to do is come up with a snappy name like Famous Amos and we’ll make a fortune.”

“Ooh,” she replies with a laugh.

“Forget Mrs. Field’s,” Clara adds as she enters the kitchen. “You can be Mrs. Kent’s.”

“I like the sound of that,” Martha says as she pulls out another muffin tin from the oven.

Clara eyes the kitchen where every square inch of space is occupied by baking trays and pans. “This is turning into a big time operation. Is there some party going on I don’t know about?”

As Martha searches for space to put down the hot muffin tin, Clara just reaches over and holds it for her. She takes the opportunity to pick off a piece of the muffin and pops it into her mouth. Her eyes widen with delight.

“This is great, mom!” she says happily, and heads over to the fridge to grab a bottle of milk.

“Thanks,” Martha says, beaming. “I’ve got a meeting with a large grocery chain – if they like what they taste, they’ll give me a shot at one of their stores, and if that goes well, I might end up with a big contract.”

“That’s great!”

When Jonathan takes too long to offer his congratulations, they turn only to see his frown.

“What’s wrong?”

With a resigned sigh, he drops his pen onto the tabletop. “I don’t see how we’re gonna pay the feed bill this month.”

As Clara freezes, eyeing her parents warily, Martha squeezes his shoulder even as she lets out a tired sigh of her own. “I could go by Langham’s Store and maybe we can get an extension on our credit.”

“We’re already 3 months behind, sweetheart,” he says gently.

“Well, Andy’s a friend. I’m sure he’ll understand,” she says optimistically.

Jonathan admits, “I’ve already asked. He said no.” There are times when he hates how fast news travels in a small town like theirs – had Andy not heard about him being turned down for a bank loan, he doesn’t doubt he would’ve agreed to extend his credit.

Martha eyes the baked goods that litter the kitchen. “Even if the managers say yes, it’ll be weeks if not months until I earn enough money to make a difference. So what are we gonna do?”

Jonathan brings up his coffee mug to his lips to buy himself some time.

It doesn’t help.

“I don’t know. We don’t have a whole lot of options here.”

Martha considers bringing up Lex’s offer, but considering the distance between he and Clara over her unrequited crush on him – and how Jonathan hasn’t cottoned onto that, she has no idea, but she has no intention of informing her husband – she doesn’t know if he’d still be interested, or even if he is, if the offer would remain on the same terms. Considering their desperation, Lex may decide to make the terms far more favorable to him and more punishing to them, and while he doesn’t seem to be the vindictive type, he is a businessman and a Luthor.

In the end, she goes for the one option that may hurt Jonathan’s pride the most but which she knows for certain will be their saving grace. She sits next to him and says, “There is one call we can make.”

When he looks over at her, she says calmly, “Maybe we should talk to my father.”

Jonathan shakes his head and gets up from the table, irritation clear in every movement. Martha sighs in annoyance and only just stops herself from rolling her eyes at his reaction.

Clara, who had remained silent thus far to prevent being sent out of the kitchen, narrows her eyes. “Why is it whenever anyone mentions granddad, suddenly everyone becomes quiet and uncomfortable? Don’t you think it’s weird I’ve never even met the man?”

Jonathan’s back hunches over the sink. “Look, Clara. I’m- I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to have a relationship with your grandpa, I really am. There’s just too much bad blood.” Barely able to meet her gaze, he heads for the screen door. “I’m sorry, but I- I got work to do.”

Martha’s lips are tight as she watches him leave the kitchen.

***

To the surprise of everyone who knows them, Chloe and Pete are still not talking to each other. It’s the longest they’ve ever fought, and while at first Clara had been taking advantage of their strained friendship to mourn for the loss of hers with Lex, she misses them and hates that she’s being put in the middle.  

When Pete still refuses to even enter the _Torch_ office, Clara enlists Lana’s help to wrangle him in. Like all the other guys in Smallville, Pete can’t refuse Lana or resist and risk possibly hurting her. Clara could’ve easily dragged him in herself, of course, but that would’ve given away her strength.

If Chloe is surprised by Pete’s presence – even if clearly unwilling – she doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Check it out,” she says simply when they enter, holding up that day’s issue of _The_ _Torch_ in presentation. The headline reads ‘Smallville: Mutant Capital of the World.’

“ _Mutant_?” Clara asks.

Chloe shrugs nonchalantly. “Freak was too incendiary to put into the title.”

Considering Chloe loves anything incendiary, Clara knows she did this for Pete. As Clara pretends to buy that excuse, she sneaks a look at him and sees that his body seems less tense than it had been moments earlier. When Lana reaches for the paper in question, despite being now freed, Pete remains in the room, though he still doesn’t look at the paper or at Chloe. In fact, he even deigns to head over to a neighboring desk to actually sit down.

Clara’s lips twitch into a smile and she looks over at Lana to glory in their success when Principal Kwan storms into the office.

“Sullivan.” He holds up the paper Chloe had just been displaying. “Is this your idea of a joke? Concerned parents have been calling all morning.”

Chloe perks up. “Well, what have you been telling them?”

“What the EPA and other environmental groups said years ago – the meteor rocks are harmless.”

“People have a right to know about the strange things that happen in this town!” she argues.

“ _The_ _Torch_ is a school paper. It’s not your own personal tabloid,” he says chastisingly.

Chloe balks. “Are you censoring me?”

“I’m requiring you to do your job, which is report on relevant school events: Sports. Dances. Clubs. I’m relieving you of your duties.”

After that bombshell, he looks at the rest of them and says, “ _The_ _Torch_ is suspended until I can appoint a new editor.”

Tossing the paper onto the desk, Principal Kwan leaves. Chloe turns to them looking completely shocked. “Okay, what just happened?”

“I think you were fired,” Pete says.

Chloe’s eyes narrow hearing the glee in his tone.

Clara stands and gets between them, hoping to stop the fighting before it can start. “Chloe, I’m sure there’s something we can do,” she says consolingly.

“Let me talk to Kwan,” Lana chimes in.

“Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but what do you think you can do?” Chloe asks skeptically.

“I don’t know, but let me give it a shot,” Lana offers, before hurrying after Principal Kwan.

Chloe looks away, the unease in the pit of her stomach only growing.

***

The argument between Martha and Jonathan once Clara leaves for school isn’t so much an argument as it is Martha forcing her husband to acknowledge that they don’t exactly have other options. Jonathan supposes he should be grateful she isn’t rubbing turning down Lex’s offer in his face, as she’d been all for accepting it and only his insistence otherwise had her agreeing to apply for another bank loan instead. That he now has to think about his father-in-law, the very man who had summarily informed him he isn’t good enough for Martha – and indeed, Jonathan is chagrined to note, is clearly being proven right all these years later – is probably just desserts, he thinks.

Still, Jonathan refuses to give in. There has to be another option than begging William Clark for scraps. He storms out of the house and drives the truck to Granville, knowing if he stays at the farm that Martha will only follow him around, trying to talk him around to her way of thinking, and he needs space and time to calm down. It’s cowardly of him, perhaps, but he tells himself he genuinely does have business that needs to be done at Granville.

Martha, however, refuses to sit idly by and watch as her husband’s stubborn pride takes away their home. She makes the call – rather relieved when she gets her father’s voicemail – and asks him for financial assistance. She acknowledges that it’s a rather short notice, and so asks for a call back for a time when he’ll be available. After all, while her father has retired to Coast City, he still might not be able to come right away, and even if he can, he may opt not to. Still, a call had to be made, and best it happen now when Jonathan and Clara are away from the farm.

As the hours pass and Martha doesn’t hear back from her father, however, she starts to worry that he may call when Jonathan is home, or even worse, that he may even answer the phone, ruining any possible assistance from her father due to their differing temperaments. Fidgeting with nervousness, she almost hopes her father has yet to get her message. Just as she’s about to call him again, a strange car pulls up to the house. Her eyes widen with shock as she realizes it’s her father behind the wheel of the Lincoln – in order for him to be here now, he had to have caught the first flight out. Despite his retirement, she doesn’t doubt he has a full schedule, and she feels rather teary-eyed that he’s dropped everything to come help at her call for assistance.

Sniffling and giving her eyes a quick wipe with a kitchen towel, Martha heads outside. To her surprise, her father looks old, his shock of white hair having receded slightly and his face lined with wrinkles. Admittedly it’s been 20 years since she’s last seen him, but she’d thought of William Clark as an ageless figure, looking forever disappointed with her and her choices. Seeing him dressed in a sharp suit and tie, his form of armor, is almost a relief, though she wouldn’t be shocked if he actually is still practicing law rather than enjoying retirement.

“Hi, dad,” she greets with a tremulous smile. “I appreciate you making the trip.”

They share a loose hug, and it’s far too awkward. Martha hurriedly pulls away.

“I was surprised to get your message. Must’ve taken a lot for Jonathan to ask for my help.”

She confesses, “Jonathan is at the co-op in Granville. He doesn’t know I called.”

Eyebrows ticking up, he says, “Oh. I should’ve known.” If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it.

William carefully examines the farm and the yellow farmhouse. The house is surprisingly large and the land around it is well maintained. Considering he’d been expecting a hovel, the place is a pleasant surprise.

“Well, I imagined this place differently,” he admits. “But it’s not the life I wanted for you, Martha.”

Doing her best to stifle her exasperation, Martha turns and makes her way to the house. “I’m happy, dad. It’s a good life.”

“For some people, maybe,” he says as he follows, clearly unwilling to let it go. “But you had so much potential.”

Knowing he can’t see her, she rolls her eyes at the familiar spiel.

“Top ten in your class, you could have gone to any law school you wanted. I had hoped that one day you’d take over my practice.”

She turns to him as they climb up the stairs. “I never wanted to be a lawyer,” she says exasperatedly. “This is the life I chose!”

“This is a life Jonathan chose for you. You just went along for the ride,” he continues doggedly.

“This isn’t about Jonathan!” she retorts in frustration. “You raised an independent daughter and you’re angry because that’s what you got.”

“And here you are 20 years later going behind your husband’s back asking me for money.”

Just then, Clara comes into view. “Mom?”

Martha resists the urge to scream in frustration. “Clara. You’re here early.”

Clara hurriedly joins them on the porch. “There was an issue with _The Torch_. We’re working it out.”

Seeing her father take in Clara’s hand-me-down outfit – one that’s clearly meant for a man rather than a teenage girl – and the threadbare backpack she’s holding in her hand, Martha inwardly winces. Clara at least doesn’t appear to feel self conscious as she looks back and forth between them with a polite expression on her face.

Martha swallows a sigh and makes the introductions.

“Clara, this is your grandfather.”

Clara’s eyes light up. William looks taken aback at seeing the delighted smile on her face, and while she doesn’t hug him – though Martha can tell she dearly wants to – her entire being radiates with enough happiness that she doubts even her father is immune to her enthusiasm.

“Pleased to meet you, sir. Is it okay if I call you granddad? Or would you prefer grandpa? Or grandfather? I know you don’t know me, but I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!”

To Martha’s complete surprise, her father’s expression softens at hearing Clara’s verbal diarrhea, and something almost… awed appears on his face. “Hello, Clara.”

Shooting Martha a happy smile, she turns back to her grandfather. For years she’s wanted to meet him, and here he is, standing in front of her and looking rather pleased to see her. She has so many questions to ask him, so many things she wants to know, that she actually has trouble getting the words out, not sure of what to say first.

Unwilling to look like a bumbling idiot in front of her grandfather, Clara decides to start with something simple.

“What’s it like, living in Coast City? Is the beach beautiful? I’ve never seen the ocean-” Clara pulls up short, suddenly realizing they’re just standing around on the porch in November. “Won’t you come in?”

William’s face flickers with indecision before he pulls back slightly. “Thank you, Clara, but I’d best be going. Martha, I’ll, uh, I’ll be at the motel. I’ll have a cashier’s check drawn tomorrow morning.”

Clara’s face falls, especially when her mother doesn’t protest. “Why don’t you stay with us? We have plenty of room.”

He stops and turns to face her. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Clara.”

Considering Jonathan’s reaction that morning, she figures he might have a point. “How- how about dinner? One meal as a family.”

Even as Martha shakes her head, knowing the futility, he apologetically declines. “I’m sorry.”

William stares at Martha for a beat, and when she doesn’t say a word, he leaves. Rather than watching him go, she hurries inside before he’s even down the stairs. Clara stares after her mother in frustration before turning to watch as her grandfather walks to his car and drives away.

***

“Clara?”

She looks up from her hammock, surprised to see Lana standing at the foot of the stairs. “Lana! What are you doing here?”

She sighs. “I failed to get a meeting with Principal Kwan, but I’m going to stalk his office tomorrow. Maybe he’ll agree to meet with me then.”

“Good luck,” Clara offers. “Maybe I should join you? I did help save his life that one time.”

Lana smiles at that before shaking her head. “He knows Chloe is your best friend. He’ll probably think anything you say is biased.”

Clara nods, knowing she has a point. When Lana doesn’t appear to be willing to say anything else – nor head back home – she brings up something she’s been dying to share with someone. “I saw my grandfather today.”

Lana’s eyes widen. “I’ve never heard you mention him before.”

“I’d never actually met him before.” She scoots over a little so Lana can sit next to her.

“Do you know anything about him?”

Clara shrugs. “Just that he was a big corporate lawyer in Metropolis before he retired to Coast City. When I was in 5th grade, I finally worked up the nerve to call him and left a message, but he never called me back. I thought he wasn’t interested.”

She remembers the softened look in his eyes as he’d stared at her and thinks it hadn’t been disinterest – or at least that hadn’t been the only reason for the distance.

“All these years, I’ve had this image of the Kents as the perfect family.”

Her lips quirk into facsimile of a smile. “I guess we’re just as dysfunctional as everyone else.” She sighs. “I never did pressure my parents for the whole story.”

“Maybe you didn’t want to know.”

“Maybe.” Clara remembers feeling like there had been something wrong with her, like her grandfather hadn’t approved of her parents adopting her rather than having a biological child of their own. And then shortly thereafter, she’d discovered her alien origins and everything else had fallen by the wayside. “Maybe it’d been easier to live with the image than the truth.” She bites her lip before determinedly standing up. “But he’s here now. It’s my chance to find out.”

“Good luck,” Lana tells her before she makes her way out of the loft.

***

When Jonathan finds out that William Clark is in town at Martha’s invitation, he takes in a deep breath before looking away, unable to keep looking at his wife. He instead focuses on the tractor that he needs to fix and sell to pay the feed bill.

“If you want to talk to your father, that’s fine. I just don’t want him having anything to do with our finances.”

“Jonathan, what was I supposed to do? Wait until the bank foreclosed on the farm?” she argues, desperation tingeing her voice.

He refuses to look at Martha, unable to stomach seeing the undoubtedly distressed and disappointed expression on her face. “I just wish you had said something to me about it first.”

Clara interjects. “Dad, what’s the harm in just hearing him out?”

“Honey, you don’t have to be the mediator here. Believe me, I wish things could be different.” Tightening the bulb, he signals Clara to turn on the light.

She shoots him a mulish look even as she does as bid. “Well, why can’t they be? You always told me to look for the best in people. Maybe he’s put whatever it is you’re both holding against each other behind him.”

“I seriously doubt that, Clara.”

With the lights now fixed, Jonathan turns to walk away. Her question forces him to stop.

“What happened that was so bad? I mean, it can’t be any worse than what’s in the storm cellar.”

When neither of her parents say anything to her quip, she straightens up and hesitantly asks, “Can it?”

Martha and Jonathan exchange furtive glances.

“When your mother and I decided to get married, I went down to his office to ask him for her hand,” he starts.

“What’d he say?”

“I remember his exact words. _I will not let my daughter throw her life away by marrying some hick farmer that couldn’t possibly support her_.” Jonathan snorts. “Turns out he was right after all.”

“Jonathan-”

He shakes his head, stopping his wife from trying to placate him.

Clara chews on her lip. “That’s harsh.”

“He was a corporate lawyer. That’s the way he dealt with people,” Martha tries to defend.

“When he realized that we were serious about getting married, he… he lost it. He tried to shove me out of his office.”

Dread coiling in her stomach, Clara reluctantly asks, “What happened?”

Jonathan looks over at Martha before eventually confessing, “I hit him.”

It’s the last thing Clara had expected to hear, and her eyes widen with shock. When she looks over at her mother, she refuses to meet her gaze.

“I’m not proud of that,” Jonathan tells her. “I tried to apologize to him but he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. Your grandfather and I haven’t said a word to each other since.”

Clara frowns. “But that was 20 years ago. He was willing to come all the way out here. Maybe he wants to try again.”

He snorts. “Believe me, Clara, he’s not here to help. He’s here to gloat.”

Clara shakes her head, unable to believe her father could be so judgmental, and to family at that. Clearly it isn’t just the name Luthor that brings that out of him.

Well, if he won’t be the bigger man, then she’ll just have to play hardball.

***

While Clara’s thoughts had been understandably preoccupied with the strife between her grandfather and her parents and possible ways that she could work out a détente between them, that doesn’t mean she has completely forgotten about Chloe and her suspension from being the editor of _The Torch_. Clara doesn’t really care about the school paper, but it’s Chloe’s baby, and she doesn’t doubt that without being able to work on the paper, Chloe will fall apart. Not to mention that she’s planning on applying for that summer internship at the _Daily Planet_ – if she isn’t reinstated, her chances for getting it probably won’t be that great.

Clara wonders if Lana has been able to talk Principal Kwan around, and if she’s failed, if there’s any way Clara herself may be able to convince him.

As soon as Chloe sees her, she practically sprints over. “Hey, have you heard anything about Lana’s meeting with Kwan?”

Clara slings her arm around the blonde’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll work out,” she tries to say as reassuringly as possible.

Just as they enter the _Torch_ office, Lana appears behind them as if on cue. “Hey.”

“So how’d it go?” Clara asks.

Lana looks at the two of them, and it’s clear that she has news. “Well, it’s interesting.”

Chloe looks determinedly at Lana. “Bottom-line it. When can we send out the next issue?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Clara cheers as Chloe smiles in excitement and relief. “Great!”

Lana interrupts their celebration, still looking uncertain. She braces herself as she says, “Except, uh… um… Kwan made me the new editor.”

Chloe freezes before she furrows her brow and shakes her head.

“Okay uh, rewind. I need you to say that last part again.”

Lana clenches her hands. “After I made my case, Kwan said if I had that much passion, I should be in charge.”

Chloe looks at her incredulously. “I don’t believe this!”

“Chloe, it’s the only way he’d reopen the paper,” Lana tries to explain.

Chloe steps forward until she’s only inches away from Lana. Her eyes appear bright, though no tears fall.

“So what, cheerleading’s not enough? Maybe the editor of the school newspaper looks better on a college application.”

“Chloe, that’s not fair,” Clara interjects, even as Lana says, “That isn’t it. I just figured you could ghost-write until we got you reinstated-”

“Okay, so then I would work for you?” Chloe interrupts, clearly displeased at that prospect.

“The paper would still be yours,” Lana insists.

“Wait, wait.” Clara gets in between the two of them. “Chloe, think about it. It’s not a bad idea.”

Chloe laughs though it’s not a pleasant sound. “It figures you’d side with your new BFF.”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side-” Clara starts to argue.

“Yeah right, Clara. You’re completely objective in all things Lana,” she bites out.

Clara is taken aback. All she’d been trying to do is help, but clearly Chloe isn’t in the mood to hear it. She takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna go.”

Chloe grabs her bag. “No, please Clara, stay! Take my desk!”

“Chloe, this isn’t what you think,” Lana tries again.

The blonde turns to her. “You know what the weirdest part is? For a millisecond I almost thought you were my friend.”

Chloe then stalks off, leaving Lana to look after her in defeat.

***

Despite the combined efforts of Clara and Lana, Chloe refuses to listen. In fact, her retorts become so cutting that Clara gives up, unwilling to subject herself to being so insulted by someone who’s supposed to be her best friend. She’d thought Chloe had gotten over holding their friendship hostage when she doesn’t get her way, but that’s clearly not the case. While Clara understands that Chloe is hurting and lashing out, she refuses to be a doormat.

Frustrated and angry, Clara decides to put her focus back on reconciling her family. Unfortunately, her luck there isn’t any better. Despite her best efforts, her mother refuses to speak to her grandfather, clearly having given up.

Clara tries again. “Mom-”

“Not now, honey,” she says, not looking up from where she’s roughly kneading the dough.

Huffing out a breath, Clara speeds upstairs. Sneaking into her parents’ room, she quietly starts to rifle through the nightstand for the address book. She refuses to feel guilty and reminds herself that it’s for a good cause.

Memorizing her grandfather’s cell phone number, Clara puts everything back the way it was before tiptoeing across the hall to her room.

She barely waits for the greeting before she speaks quietly into the handset. “Granddad?”

It surprises Clara that out of everyone in her family – which, admittedly, only consists of 4 people – it is her estranged grandfather who seems open and willing to try again.

“Thanks, granddad. See you soon,” she says, before hanging up the phone. She sighs with relief.

Double-checking to make sure her mother remains ignorant of what had just happened, she zips outside to get her chores completed. She keeps an ear out for the sound of cars, and finds herself relieved when she hears her grandfather pulling up before her father’s back.

“Thanks for coming, granddad,” she greets with a smile.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up, Clara,” he warns.

Picking up the familiar sound of the family pickup truck, she ushers him into the barn before he’s spotted. She forces herself to stand still, and pastes a smile on her face when Jonathan drives up to the barn.

“Hey dad, you got a minute?” she asks as he goes to unload the cargo bed.

“Yeah, you just gotta talk to me while we’re working. We’ve got a lot to do before it gets dark.”

As Jonathan slings one of the feed bags over his shoulder and starts to walk towards the barn, Clara says, “There’s someone I want you to see.”

Jonathan puts the bag down onto the ground at that. Seeing William stepping outside, he stops in his tracks.

“Your mother put you up to this?”

“No, this was all my idea,” she answers, as her gaze darts between the two men who are coolly eyeing each other.

“Don’t blame Clara. Whatever problems we have, they’re between us. Martha says you need help. I’m here to give it.”

Clara looks over at her father hopefully. Unfortunately, she soon finds herself becoming disappointed.

“So I haven’t seen you for 20 years, and all of a sudden you want to be a part of this family.”

William’s jaw tilts up. “I don’t want anything from you. I brought a check because I won’t stand by and watch my daughter suffer.”

“You just couldn’t resist turning that old knife, could you?”

“Dad!” she interjects. “Give him a chance. You two can work this out.”

“I don’t think so, Clara. See, it’s just like 20 years ago, same argument, same attitude.”

William’s gaze turns piercing. “Not quite, Jonathan. It has been 20 years, but everything I’ve predicted has come true. I knew Martha was making the biggest mistake of her life when she married you.”

As Jonathan flinches, Clara turns to William. “That’s not true, granddad.”

“Look at what you’re wearing, Clara, and these chores that he expects you to do for hours every day. Wouldn’t you rather wear clothes that fit you and hang out with your friends at that coffee shop in town, like all the other teenagers?”

When Clara doesn’t – can’t – deny it, he turns back to Jonathan. “You’re going to have to swallow your pride if you’re going to save this farm, Jonathan.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you on how to take care of my family, thank you,” he bites out. He forcibly ignores the small voice in his head telling him his father-in-law has a point and that he clearly doesn’t know how to take care of his family.

William shakes his head. “You’re just as stubborn and pigheaded as you were the day I met you.”

“You get off my land,” Jonathan orders.

“Gladly.”

“Granddad, wait!” Clara calls out.

Jonathan puts a restraining hand on her arm before she can chase after him. “Just let him go, Clara. I know you had good intentions, but some things just can’t change.”

She jerks her arm free. The look in her eyes makes him feel small.

“Because you refuse to. Yeah, he shouldn’t have said that about you and mom’s marriage, and he’s wrong about that, but he’s here to help, and he’s family. Why can’t you just swallow your goddamn pride and accept his help? Is your pride really worth us losing the farm? Our home?”

When she runs off, Jonathan can only stare after her with mounting feeling of guilt.

***

It doesn’t take Clara long to find out where her grandfather is staying. Smallville isn’t that big, after all, and it’s not like they get a ton of tourists. They’re frankly lucky that there’s even a motel in the outskirts of town.

As she knocks on the door of room 107, she swallows roughly and tells herself that she needn’t be nervous.

When the door opens and her grandfather looks surprised to see her – surprised but not angry or hurt or disappointed – the tightness in her chest eases.

“Clara.”

“I don’t want our relationship to end before it ever had a chance to begin.”

William’s lips twitch. “Well, you can come in if you want. But you’ll have to excuse me, I’m running a little late.”

Seeing the opened and half-packed suitcase on the bed, Clara hurriedly enters the room and closes the door behind her.

“There’s something I wanted to show you.” She offers him a large, worn book that she’d fetched before making her way over. “It’s the album my parents started after they adopted me. It has photos of me, of us as a family, doing stuff together, and my milestones and report cards and…”

William takes out his glasses from his shirt pocket and puts it on before rifling through the pages. He pauses at a photo of Clara as a toddler, covered in flour, “helping” her mother bake. He smiles at the photo next to it where Clara is sitting on the floor, focused intently on the book in her lap, with a pile of children’s books stacked neatly beside her.

“I wanted you to see our family the way I do. We’re more than old arguments and overdue bills.”

Hearing the knock on the door, Clara turns around. A quick use of x-ray vision shows her Martha standing behind it, looking discomfited. Clara isn’t sure if she’s here to smooth over the ruffled feathers or because of Clara’s accusation to Jonathan, but supposes it doesn’t matter.

“Mom.”

William shuts the album closed as Martha enters the motel room.

“Hi dad.”

He takes an envelope out of his briefcase. “You can have this. It’s a cashier’s check.”

“Thanks dad,” she tells him, her voice sounding choked up.

“I have two conditions,” he states firmly, clearly unmoved by the show of emotion from his daughter. “I expect the money to go to Clara’s care first before it gets used to save Jonathan’s sinking farm.”

Martha opens her mouth as if to argue against that, before she closes it with a snap. “You said two conditions.”

“I want Clara to come stay with me during the summers until she turns 18.”

“In Coast City?” Despite the tension in the room, Clara can’t help but sound enthusiastic at the prospect. She’s never flown in a plane before, and while she’s terrified of heights, she thinks it might be worth it to actually get to see the ocean.

William shoots her an indulgent smile before turning back to Martha and arching an eyebrow. She grimaces, wondering just how they’re going to be able to replace Clara’s help around the farm.

As though sensing the reason for her hesitation, he adds, “Don’t worry, I’ll happily provide the money to cover the hiring of farmhands for the summer months. I’ll also buy the flight tickets and cover any costs that may arise during her trip. The stay in a big city will be good for Clara, I expect. She’s clearly intelligent, and I want to nurture that so she has a future beyond working at that dead-end farm for the rest of her life.”

Clara frowns. As glad as she is of her grandfather’s proposal, she doesn’t like the way he talks about their home.

“The farm is my home, granddad. And I’m happy here.”

His face softens when he looks at her. “I know. It’s the only reason why I’m offering my financial assistance.”

At that, Clara hesitates. “It sounds like it’ll be a lot of money. I don’t need that much, granddad. This is more than enough.”

“You’re my granddaughter, Clara,” William tells her. “It is my job as your grandfather to spoil you as you deserve. And it is what your grandmother would’ve wanted for you.”

Clara can’t – doesn’t want to, really – argue with that.

“Thanks, granddad,” she says, before launching herself across the room to hug him.

She’s delighted to feel his arms tighten around her.

“You remind me so much of your grandmother. She was ambitious and smart, and so kind and generous. She would have adored you.”

William pulls back and gathers himself. He hands over the envelope to Martha. “Do we have a deal?”

Her lips tight, Martha nods firmly. Clara hesitates, suddenly wondering if she’s hurting her mother by fostering a warm relationship with her grandfather. She supposes her mother probably isn’t happy that her parenting is being dictated to, but considering he’s just asking for her to spend summer months with him, it doesn’t seem unreasonable. After all, plenty of other kids go visit their family during the summer, and despite the rift, he is family.

“I’ll make sure this gets returned to you safely,” William says as he gently packs the album into his suitcase.

Martha’s gaze warms as she sees the book. She smiles at Clara, and though there’s something heart-wrenching in her expression, she takes comfort in that smile.

“We’ll leave you to your packing, dad,” she says. When Clara doesn’t follow her, Martha turns back around. “Clara?”

“I’m going to stick around for a bit until granddad’s ready to leave. If that’s okay with you,” she asks her grandfather.

At his nod, Clara sits down on the only chair in the room. “I’ll see you back at the farm, mom.”

Seeing that her father truly doesn’t mind, Martha says farewell to her father and shuts the door behind her.

***

It would be better if Jonathan is furious with her, but to Martha’s consternation, he’s quiet.

“Jonathan, I know I made this decision without consulting you, and you have every right to be angry-”

He shakes his head and brings the beer up to his lips. “He’s right, I am a failure.”

“Jonathan…”

“We’ve never been able to give Clara all the things that other kids her age got to have, and even with my best efforts the farm is still in debt. Maybe I should at last man up and do the right thing and sell the farm so that I could provide a better life for you and Clara.”

“Jonathan, no!” Martha exclaims. “The Kent Farm is the oldest farm in Lowell County. It’s been in your family for generations!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve always known that I’d be the last Kent to manage the farm. You and I both know Clara’s future lies somewhere beyond Smallville. The end is just… sooner than I’d thought it would be, that’s all.”

“Maybe, but this is still a wonderful and amazing home for Clara – and for me,” Martha says, grasping his hands in her own and forcing him to meet her gaze. “All the money in the world means nothing without love, Jonathan, and Clara has grown up in a house full of love. And one day, this great and wonderful house full of love will be there for our grandchildren, for them to come visit and run around free and bask in all the love that we can give them.”

Jonathan closes his eyes and takes comfort in Martha’s embrace and the picture she paints of the future.

The clatter of Clara’s steps on the stairs has them separating. She looks at them with a hesitant smile on her face, and only when Jonathan and Martha pull her into a hug does she relax.

“Granddad left, but before he did, he told me he tried to get involved in my life after the adoption. Why wouldn’t you let him see me?”

Clara can’t help but sound betrayed. She’d thought for years that there had been something wrong with her, that that had been why her grandfather had refused to have any sort of relationship with her. To find out he had actually been interested in her and had reached out, only to find himself rebuffed…  

She wants an explanation. She thinks she deserves one, in fact.    

“Well, it’s complicated,” Jonathan says, despite knowing she won’t let it rest at that but saying it anyway.

“It can’t be that complicated, he’s my grandfather.”

He and Martha exchange a speaking glance before Jonathan reluctantly explains. “Clara, when you were a little girl, you couldn’t control your abilities like you can now. And if he had spent any time with us, he might have found out your secret.”

Clara’s brows furrow. “But he’s family.”

“We had such a history of disagreeing on things,” Martha says. “We just didn’t know how he’d react. We couldn’t be sure we could trust him.”

She pulls back from them. “So he wasn’t a part of our lives because of me?”

“Not just you,” Martha reassures her.

Clara is silent as she takes that in. She guesses she’d been right after all – she hadn’t had a relationship with her grandfather because there had been something wrong with her. Shaking her head, she reminds them, “But… I’ll be spending time with him during the summers.”

Martha and Jonathan exchange another speaking glance, before Jonathan warns, “Sweetheart, you’ll need to be extremely careful that you don’t betray your abilities to him.”

“He’s family,” she finds herself repeating. It’s one thing keeping it a secret from friends; it’s another matter entirely to hide it from her own grandfather.

Neither Martha nor Jonathan appears moved by that argument.

At that, Clara wonders if her parents are right and her grandfather won’t take the truth well. She had been worried that he wouldn’t accept her because she’d been adopted rather than being a blood relation; how would he react if he finds out she’s not even human? She suddenly can’t help but fear that the softness in his eyes when he looks at her will turn to one of horror instead.

“I’ll be careful,” Clara reluctantly agrees.

***

With an actual shopping trip to Granville scheduled for after school, Clara is practically ebullient when she enters Smallville High. Although she’d have preferred to go shopping in Metropolis, Granville is not only closer but cheaper as well, and she’ll definitely be able to get more things for her buck there.

Maybe she’ll be able to convince her parents to take her to Metropolis some other time. She’d still love to see that museum exhibit, and they can’t argue it isn’t educational.

Her buoyed spirit doesn’t last long. She’s barely entered the school when Chloe, on seeing her, pointedly ignores her and walks off in the other direction. Mood dimming, Clara sees Pete and heads over to him to vent.

“That sucks,” is all Pete says when Clara finishes.

“That’s it? Chloe won’t even look at me let alone listen to anything I have to say,” she huffs out. As frustrated as she is with the blonde, she’s hurt too. Chloe’s claim that Clara favors Lana whenever they have an argument is getting old, especially because it isn’t true. It feels like Chloe is only happy if she’s the only friend Clara has, and that’s not fair.

“What do you want me to do about it? She isn’t going to listen to me either, even if everything between us was okay.”

Clara leans against the locker beside Pete’s. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs, not looking over at her. “It is what it is.”

She squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

He shoots her a smile that falls short of the usual Ross grin. “You don’t have to. I’m not expecting you to side with the girl who tried to kill you.”

She’s surprised at his acknowledgment considering he’d spent the better part of the week trying to joke away Jodi’s actions. “Good, because I’m not. I’m being there for my friend.”

Pete nods, and something grateful enters his expression. He pats her on the arm before slamming his locker shut. His gaze stutters when he turns around, and when Clara looks in the same direction, she’s surprised to see Chloe watching them. The blonde hurriedly looks away when she’s caught before once more determinedly striding off. Feeling decidedly pissed, Clara decides to go find Lana and hang out with her instead.

“I’ll see you in class, Pete.”

He arches an eyebrow but shrugs. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Since she’s been named the new editor, Clara’s not surprised to find Lana in the _Torch_ office. Seeing her unsuccessfully trying to fix the printer, however, is something of a comical sight.

“How’s it going?”

Lana exhales, exhaustion apparent. “To be honest, I’m in way over my head. All I wanted to do is help Chloe out and now I feel like I’ve completely screwed up everything.”

Clara examines the printer to see what’s wrong with it. She removes the jammed paper and opens the paper tray to make sure everything’s laying flat and there’s plenty of paper in there before closing it back up.

“There.”

She shoots her a wry smile. “Thanks. Now if you can do that to all of my problems, then maybe we’ll be able to get the next issue out after all.”

“I don’t know about that, but I can definitely try to help. I might not have been the editor but I’ve helped Chloe put an issue or two together back in my day.”

Lana looks like she just got handed a lifeline. “Thanks Clara.”

***

Martha can’t help but take vindictive pleasure at the way Jim’s eyes widen with surprise seeing the cashier’s check. She tries to chastise herself for it, but gives it up as futile when she recalls the message he’d unceremoniously left on their answering machine.

Although she’d agreed when her father had demanded the money go to Clara’s care first, they’d discussed the matter as a family the night before and had instead decided that, while Clara will get a couple of new things – and maybe even more depending on how good the sales might be – the money will actually be used to keep the farm afloat, with the rest to be saved for a rainy day. While Martha doesn’t doubt Clara had been disappointed by that decision, she’d been too happy to be getting more than one new and fitted clothing item to argue. Martha can’t deny she feels somewhat guilty over going back on her word and depriving Clara, but summer isn’t that far away and she knows the spending money her father will give Clara will be more than generous.

The true concern now is just how they’ll be paying her father back, for she and Jonathan fully intend to do so if only to sever his ties to Clara. They don’t doubt Clara will fight tooth and nail to maintain her relationship with her grandfather, but Martha has grown up with William Clark’s expectations and the consequences of failing to meet them, and that’s not something she wants her daughter to ever experience. She doubts he intends to force her to become a lawyer, but she doesn’t ever want Clara to feel obligated to do something just because she feels like she owes her grandfather. Besides, she and Jonathan can’t help but fear that Clara will reveal her powers to her grandfather despite promising to be careful, not because she’ll do so on purpose but because mistakes and accidents can happen. And they can’t help but fear her father won’t take the revelations of his granddaughter’s alien origins well.    

To Martha’s surprise, Clara arrives home almost too late for them to make the trip to Granville. As it is, they’ll be lucky to even get half an hour at the mall.

“You’re home late, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

Clara sighs. “Chloe’s been suspended as the editor of _The Torch_ , and when Lana went to Principal Kwan to argue against that decision, she got awarded the position instead. I’ve been helping her put the issue to bed.”

Martha’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “How’s Chloe?”

“Not great. She’s not talking to me.”

“She’ll come around, honey,” she reassures her.

Clara smiles back tiredly before she seems to realize just why she’d needed to worry about the time. Her eyes dart to the nearest clock.

“We can still make it, can’t we?”

“We can,” Martha says. “But don’t you want to eat first? Or do you have homework? What about-”

“Mom!”

Despite being a weekday evening near the closing hour, the mall in Granville still has quite a few people shopping and browsing. Clara’s eyes are wide as she takes in the stores and vendors and the food court, and while Martha hates to rush her, they don’t really have that much time.

“Sweetheart, we’ll come back here another time,” she promises her.

Although clearly disappointed, Clara determinedly nods and allows Martha to lead her to the nearest department store. They luck out and see a clearance sign on the window indicating select items being 70% off.  

For the first time in her life, Clara actually gets to try on different outfits and figure out what she likes and what looks good on her. Having always worn hand-me-downs – Martha’s when she’d been younger and could still fit into them then Jonathan’s as she grew too tall for anything else – she’s never had a choice in color or style or fabric. She’s always worn what she had to without complaints because there hadn’t been anything else. But since that’s no longer the case, the choices seem almost endless, and Clara can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

And Martha can’t help the guilt that churns in her gut knowing that she’s deprived her only child so much that buying clothes is essentially a foreign experience.

Determinedly holding back her tears, Martha reaches for a simple light blue V-neck tee that’s part of the sale and holds it up against her daughter’s chest.

“What do you think?”

It’s as though the dam breaks. Clara darts over to the sales section and starts to rifle through them, and picks out items that catch her eye, though she also checks the price tag and puts back several items that she deems to be above her price range.

Martha notes those that Clara seems to particularly linger over, and surreptitiously grabs them for her to try on regardless of the price. If it’s too expensive for them to buy now, it could still make a great Christmas present from herself and Jonathan.

In the end, they end up with over a dozen tops – including a new jacket and 2 fitted sweaters – and 3 pairs of jeans as well as a new backpack for Clara. While she had been drawn to pinks at first, her picks have all ended up in shades of blue and red, with occasional yellow thrown in for variety.

It doesn’t surprise Martha that, once proper sizing is found, that Clara looks great in them all – and that has nothing to do with her bias as her mother. Clara is a beautiful girl, and now that she’s wearing something that actually fits her, Martha can’t deny that her daughter is growing up. She musingly wonders how Jonathan will react to all the boys that will soon be flocking to their door, and swallows a laugh.

As Clara heads towards the cashier, Martha quietly gets another store clerk to set aside the blouse and skirt combo that Clara had adored but left behind as impractical and too expensive. She’s certain Clara will love receiving them for Christmas.

Laden with bags, they just about make their way out of the store as the gates close and lock behind them.

“Thanks, mom,” Clara says, clearly ecstatic with all their purchases. “Do you think it’ll be too late to call granddad when we get home? I want to thank him too.”

“I’m sure he would appreciate that,” Martha forces herself to say. She braces herself for undoubtedly hearing a lecture about how she’d betrayed his trust. Not that he’ll demand the money back, of course, but there’s a reason why William Clark had run a top law firm in Metropolis for so many years, and only part of it had to do with his abilities as a lawyer.

Martha’s not wrong. Her ears ring long after she hangs up the phone from her father’s strictures.

***

The next day, Clara gets to school early, intent on catching Principal Kwan’s reaction to the paper she and Lana had worked on the previous day. If a part of her wonders what Chloe will think and whether or not she’ll approve, that’s only natural.

To her surprise, Clara causes quite a stir once her fellow students catch sight of her. The outfit she is wearing isn’t anything special – a simple red tee with boot cut jeans – but that they actually fit her makes all the difference. Students suddenly seem to recall that she had similarly looked great at the homecoming dance, and she gets not a few compliments as she heads for her locker.

And for the first time in her life, Clara feels like she fits in.

“Whoa!” Pete exclaims when he sees her. “Hubba hubba!”

Clara rolls her eyes even as she blushes. “Shut up.”

“When did you finally get a fashion sense?” Chloe snarks.

Clara takes a deep breath, trying to cool her temper. She reminds herself that Chloe has a reason to be upset. Plus this is the first time since their fight that Pete and Chloe are voluntarily within speaking distance of each other – it is a great opportunity to remind the two of them that they’re friends who shouldn’t let harsh words spoken amidst tragedy and pain to continue to impact that friendship.

But all Clara can think is that she doesn’t deserve to be the target of Chloe’s misdirected ire, since all she and Lana had been trying to do is work to save Chloe’s pride and joy. She remembers the long hours they’d put in the day before and the frustration and exhaustion on Lana’s face; she recalls the tired high-five they’d shared after the paper had been put to bed, hoping it would be enough to reinstate Chloe as the editor. After everything the two of them have done hoping it would please Chloe, to now having to deal with yet another diatribe from her…

Honestly, Clara is sick and tired of having to put up with Chloe’s temper tantrums and accusations whenever she doesn’t get her way. And she can’t help but remember that they’d just gone through this not all that long ago, too. She suddenly envisions what the future will look like if she lets this slide – Chloe will undoubtedly continue the same bratty behavior and act like Clara is her punching bag if she doesn’t stand up now. Perhaps she should be forced to actually deal with the consequences of her actions so that she can learn from them.

And so, Clara pointedly doesn’t respond to Chloe. Instead, she lets Pete lead her to the _Torch_ office, leaving the blonde to fume behind them.

Lana is already waiting, smiling with pride at that day’s issue of the paper on the desk in front of her. Her smile brightens when she catches sight of Clara and Pete.

“Morning!”

“Has Kwan been by yet?” Clara asks, eagerly reaching for the paper.

“Nope, not yet. I’m sure he’ll be by soon though.”

Pete looks at the headline ‘Kwan Crushes Freedom of Speech,’ and whistles. “That’ll get his attention.”

Principal Kwan doesn’t disappoint. He enters the _Torch_ office, the paper clutched in his hand. He holds it up when he sees them.

“Miss Lang! What’s this?”

“It’s a news story,” Lana replies with aplomb.

“It’s unacceptable.”

“Why? It covers all of your criteria. It deals with a student, a school-sponsored club, and there are no mutants in sight.”

He frowns before asking, “Did you do this because you thought I’d reinstate Miss Sullivan?”

“I did this because it’s the right thing to do. Chloe was born for this job.”

“Although I do admire her passion, her reporting lacks accuracy.”

“I can work on that,” Chloe says from behind them. When they look over, the blonde appears both hesitant and determined at the same time, and Lana can’t help but cross her fingers, hoping her and Clara’s gambit has worked.

Kwan directs his stern look at the blonde. “If you want your job back, Miss Sullivan, don’t print what you can’t prove. Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Principal Kwan.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Miss Lang.”

Lana adds, “It wasn’t just me. Clara was a huge help.”

Clara smiles at Lana in thanks for the acknowledgement, though it fades when she looks over at Chloe.

“Should get to class, wouldn’t want to be late.”

Lana turns to Chloe as Clara and Pete head out.

“Congratulations. You deserve it.”

“Thanks. Uh… you know. Lana, I’m sorry I flipped out on you the other day. I just… you know, the paper’s kind of my identity and it’s like the only thing that Clara and I do together these days and when I saw you here-”

“You thought I was trying to cut Clara out of your life?”

“Nobody ever said I was rational,” she quips.

“I want to be friends with you, Chloe. But I don’t want to get in the way of your friendship with Clara.”

“Oh no. Don’t worry. We’re long overdue for a conversation. We’re always going to be best friends, but that doesn’t mean she can’t have more than one.”

Lana relaxes. “I’m glad.”

“Good. I’m glad we got that settled. Now, let’s see what you’ve messed up since I’ve been gone,” she remarks with a smile, and Lana echoes it.

***

Clara isn’t exactly expecting Chloe to beg for her forgiveness, so it comes as a surprise when the blonde actually puts together a PowerPoint presentation titled ‘How Chloe Sullivan Allowed her Hindbrain to Hijack her Prefrontal Cortex and Hurt her Best Friend.’ It’s ridiculous and over the top, and Clara can’t help but smile.

“I really am sorry,” she says at the end. “And I know I’ve said that before. But I swear, this is the last time I’ll ever threaten our friendship like that. You’re absolutely entitled to have more female friends, and while I can’t promise I won’t ever get jealous of Lana, I’ll do my best to keep my foot from my mouth and actually listen when you point out when I’m being an ass.”

The speech is carefully rehearsed but that doesn’t mean she’s not sincere, and Clara sighs as she readily forgives Chloe.

“I reserve the right to pull out this PowerPoint in the future.”

Chloe eagerly nods. “I promise I’ll watch it.”

With that, the two friends hug.

“Now, what about you and Pete?”

Chloe lets out a long sigh. “That wasn’t just my fault, you know.”

“I know, and I’m sure Pete does as well.”

After a beat, Chloe strides out of the _Torch_ office to go track down Pete, and Clara follows in relief.

She’s startled when, rather than saying anything, Chloe just walks up to Pete and punches him in the arm. Just as Clara’s about to facepalm, Pete retaliates by tickling her. Chloe laughs and jerks away, and his lips twitch into a smile. Though he doesn’t put his arm around her, he walks beside her. Clara’s not exactly sure how arm punching and tickling mean apologies, but it’d worked, if not perfectly then at least enough so that the two of them seem to have called some kind of a truce so that they aren’t ignoring the other’s existence.

That’ll just have to do for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the absence of Lex. Please don't hate me! *Pre-emptively ducks rotten tomatoes*


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old family friend reappears in the Kents' lives bringing chaos along his wake, which causes Lex to become suspicious of Clara. And Clara discovers something that could result in all the questions she's long since had being answered at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a gunman taking high schoolers hostage.

Chapter Seven

While the money from William Clark successfully saves the Kents from financial ruin, it unfortunately introduces a new strain into Martha and Jonathan’s marriage despite the couple’s best efforts. Martha had accepted that problems might arise between them when she’d made the decision to go behind Jonathan’s back to contact her father, but for Clara’s sake, she’d opted to bear the consequences rather than wait in vain hope that he’d come around. After 20 years of marriage Martha knows her husband well, and with the way he’d gotten his back up when she’d first broached the subject, she’d known there’d be no way he would ever agree to ask her father for financial assistance. The farm could have been burning down around them and he would have still refused to call for help from the man who had deemed him not good enough for his daughter for fear of proving him right. And so, she’d taken that decision out of Jonathan’s hands altogether.  

And honestly, it hadn’t been that difficult a decision to make, because Martha trusts in her marriage, and she’d known that in the end, Jonathan would forgive her for anything and everything, even turning to her father to save their home.

But she had hurt him, and not just his pride as she’d thought. Jonathan argues otherwise, of course, but she can tell. He thinks she’d called her father for help because she hadn’t trusted that he would be able to find a way out of their financial troubles, and her lack of faith in him, in _them_ , is something he’s having trouble grappling with. And Martha can’t claim he’s entirely wrong; she hadn’t thought of it in terms of _trust_ , but she had deemed outside assistance to be necessary to save their farm. Having failed to come up with a workable solution to their financial problems, she hadn’t believed he would be able to – at least not within the necessary timeframe – and that’s certainly an issue that she – they – will need to work on going forward.

Martha has repeatedly attempted to explain that she doesn’t lack faith in him or their marriage, of course, but while Jonathan is clearly not angry or resentful, the comfortable familiarity that she has come to rely on these many years is missing. Kisses and touches are fleeting and careful, both of them uncertain as to what’s acceptable to the other. And while Martha knows that in time, things between she and Jonathan will go back to how they used to be, time is something they unfortunately don’t really have, not when they have a teenage daughter who is prone to blaming herself for things she didn’t cause. Despite their best efforts, it hadn’t taken long for Clara to notice the strain between them, and Martha refuses to let their daughter blame herself for that.

She already does far too much of that as it is.

“Sweetheart,” Martha says at last when she once more catches Clara shooting them worried looks across the dinner table. “The issues between your father and I have nothing to do with you.”

From the sudden stiffening of Jonathan’s spine, it’s clear he hadn’t expected her to broach the subject so overtly, if at all.  

Clara carefully puts down the fork she’d been using to aimlessly move the food around her plate. “But I convinced granddad to-”

“Hey, I’m the one who called him, remember?” Martha carefully doesn’t look over at Jonathan.

Clara fidgets as she looks between them before softly asking, “Do you regret it?”

“No.” That’s the problem, really – if Martha had regretted her actions, there would be something for Jonathan to forgive her for and for them to move on from. But the only thing she regrets is the pain she’d caused him, and while she wishes she could have found another way, the outcome – saving their home – she isn’t and can’t be sorry for.    

Jonathan clears his throat. “I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of this, Clara.”

Shrugging, Clara picks up the fork and spears a piece of chicken from her plate as she carefully suggests, “You should still go to Metropolis for your anniversary. Maybe it’ll help.”

Martha thinks about it. Getting away from the farm, even for a day, to just focus on them and their marriage, can only be a good thing in her opinion. It would certainly allow them to talk about any issues they have freely without worrying that Clara will overhear. And it’s not like they need to worry about whether or not they can afford the trip.

When she looks over at Jonathan, he doesn’t seem displeased with the idea either. In fact, when he meets her gaze, Martha can tell he’s thinking along the same lines as she is, and she lets out a breath of relief at the evidence that things between them aren’t irreparably broken.

“That’s a great idea, Clara,” Jonathan says, and reaches over to gently squeeze Martha’s hand.

Clara smiles at them before returning to her meal with gusto.

***

Martha had thought booking a hotel room and making a dinner reservation at the same restaurant where Jonathan had proposed to her would relieve her of her worries, but the opposite happens. She’s reminded of how nervous she’d been the very first time she and Jonathan had dropped Clara off at school, and that time a large part of her nervousness had been about fear, of Clara accidentally betraying her strength and speed and some government official coming to take her daughter away from her. This time, her uneasiness has nothing to do with fear of losing her daughter, though that doesn’t lessen the feeling any.

The thing is, Martha knows she’s being ridiculous. Yes Clara will be home all alone for the first time in her life, but as Clara has pointed out, she can certainly take care of herself, she is definitely old enough to stay home alone for an evening, and if anything happens, they’re only a couple of hours away.

And yet she can’t help but feel anxious.  

“Martha, Clara will be just fine,” Jonathan says for the umpteenth time. “She’s responsible and resourceful, and if anything happens, we can come home earlier.” He hesitates before adding, “Do you not wish to go? If you’d rather we not be alone-”

“No, of course I want to go!” she exclaims. Martha clings to him tightly, unwilling to let him believe she’s uncomfortable being alone in his presence. “I’m more than happy to put the focus on just us and our marriage.” She sighs. “I know you’re right, but I’m a mother, Jonathan, about to leave our daughter home alone for the first time. Surely I’m allowed to be a little anxious?”

Jonathan kisses the crown of her head. “Of course you are.”

Martha takes a deep, calming breath, inhaling the comforting scent of her husband. No matter her worries, they’ve decided to spend their anniversary focusing solely on them, and the last thing she wants to do is make Jonathan believe her fretting about leaving Clara alone is her attempt at avoidance.

“You know what I’m most looking forward to?”

“What?”

“The Jacuzzi tub big enough for two,” she teasingly remarks. Feeling Jonathan take a stuttered breath, she kisses his shirt-covered chest before stepping away.

“You know, Clara isn’t due home for a few more hours…” Martha starts to make her way up the stairs to their bedroom. “Coming, Jonathan?”

She smiles when she hears hurried footsteps behind her.

***

The Kent household is up early the morning of Martha and Jonathan’s wedding anniversary. Although they’ll be back the next day, the work of a farmer is never done, and while they’ve tried to do as much as they can the day before, there’s still plenty to do before they can leave. Jonathan especially wants to check everything over, to make sure there aren’t any new issues that have cropped up overnight or old ones that may cause trouble for Clara when she’s home all by herself.

Thankfully, Clara is more than an able assistant, and they get everything sorted in record time. Jonathan’s lips quirk into a small grin seeing his old headphones covering Clara’s ears and his portable CD player sticking out of her jacket pocket. He can’t believe that ancient thing is still working; he’s had some great times with the Discman, and he’s glad it brings her as much happiness as it had him back in the day.

Of course, just as he thinks that, he sees Clara frown and adjust the Discman to prevent it from skipping tracks. Once again shame flashes hotly through him. He wonders how much a new CD player costs, or perhaps that iPod he’s seen commercials of. Though considering how expensive those things are, he doubts he’ll be able to get one for her.

Not unless he uses William’s money, and he certainly has no intention of doing so.

Jonathan forcibly shakes his head and reminds himself that today is all about Martha and their marriage. He has no time to feel sorry for himself for being a pathetic husband and poor excuse for a father and certainly unworthy of the loves of his life. Taking a deep breath and relegating such thoughts to the back of his head with the ease of practice, he takes the overnight bags to the truck.

Meanwhile, Martha goes over some last minute instructions with Clara. Much of it is nothing Clara doesn’t already know, but she lets her mother ramble, more than happy to do so especially since she’s listening to a copy of Alicia Keys’ album that Chloe had finally burned for her.

“What else? Oh, don’t use the upstairs bathroom, it’s backed up. I have to snake the pipes.”

“Where’s the leftover pizza?” Clara asks when she doesn’t see the homemade pizza slices on the counter. Having skipped breakfast to help her father around the farm, she’s now starving.

“Fridge, second shelf. And you can nuke the chili for dinner.”

As Clara opens the fridge door and bends down to grab the plate with the leftover pizza slices on it, Martha reaches over and lifts the headphone off her ears.                                                                                                                    

“Clara? Some clue you actually heard me?”

Clara gives her an apologetic smile as she grabs a slice of cold pizza. “Upstairs bathroom off-limits after nuking the chili dinner,” she quips before taking a bite, not bothering to warm it up in the microwave. She idly wonders if she can get her heat vision to work so that it just heats things up rather than setting them on fire.

Hopefully she’ll be able to find out the answer to that this evening.

Martha gives her a wry smile. “Glad to see your hearing hasn’t changed.”

Just then, Clara hears the clang of metal against metal followed by Jonathan’s muffled shout of pain.

“Clara!” he calls out. “Can I get a hand out here please?”

Martha grabs the plate from her and places it back into the fridge before reaching for her coat as Clara heads back outside, eagerly taking another large bite of the pizza.

“Hey sweetheart, would you, uh…” In a familiar signal, Jonathan raises his hand, the palm side up.

“Sure,” she replies with a smile.

“Thanks.”

Placing her left hand under the undercarriage, Clara effortlessly lifts the truck until Jonathan can easily slide under on the creeper.

“Truck picked one heck of a day to snap an exhaust hanger,” Jonathan mumbles as he finishes removing the broken exhaust hanger and replaces it with a new one.

Martha walks over, buttoning up her coat and adjusting the purse strap over her shoulder. “Okay, I left the number of our hotel on the kitchen table. I think that’s everything.”

Jonathan slides back out and nods. “And that oughta do it.”

As Clara gently puts the truck back down onto the ground, he jokingly remarks, “I’m definitely raising your allowance.”

Clara tries to smile, tries to take it as a simple joke it’s meant to be, but she can’t help but resent him a little for it. If she was getting a decent allowance perhaps she wouldn’t feel the hit so clearly, but her allowance is only $2 a week, and despite the money from her grandfather, she doesn’t foresee that changing anytime soon.

Ever since Clara had been old enough to understand their financial constraints, she’d never asked for more than her parents could give, unwilling to embarrass and hurt them. But things are different now – there’s money from her grandfather, money that’s meant to be spent on her, and yet despite that all she’d gotten are not even $300 worth of new clothes. And it’s not like she’s asking for the entire sum to be spent on her or anything; an increase in her allowance or another opportunity to go shopping at the mall in Granville so she could actually get the full experience isn’t too much to ask for, she thinks.

But all she’d gotten when she’d broached the subject had been a “Maybe,” except in that tone of voice which really means “No.” It’s as though they’re against her receiving anything that isn’t directly from them. She knows that’s partly why Jonathan had been so against Lex’s gifts – they’re all the things he wishes he could give her but can’t. Yet while he can now give her those things, because the money is from her grandfather, he won’t. And Clara can’t help but resent that her parents’ issues with her grandfather are negatively impacting her.

Clara roughly swallows before she can say something she’ll regret. After all, this isn’t exactly the right time for it. Maybe once her parents successfully manage to sort things out between themselves, they’ll be much more amenable to her requests.

“If you need anything-”

Seeing the worried frown on Martha’s face, she tries to smile as reassuringly as she can.

“I’ll call. Mom, you’ll be back tomorrow night. I’ll be fine.”

Jonathan agrees. “Exactly, Martha, Clara will be fine. And soon, madam, so shall we be.”

He gallantly opens the passenger door for her, and Clara wishes them both, “Happy Anniversary.” As is tradition, she hands over a homemade card with ‘Mom & Dad’ painted in beautiful calligraphy. She’s been making them cards for every special occasion for years, and this time is no different.

Despite having received dozens of such cards, Martha is still clearly touched and leans over to pull Clara into a hug.

“Thank you. Love you, sweetheart.”

Jonathan gently ushers her into the truck before shutting the door. He turns to Clara and places a loving kiss on her forehead. “Thanks for the card.”

As Clara heads back into the house, he calls out, “Hey, think fast.”

She reluctantly catches the dirty rag Jonathan had been using as she finishes the last bite of the pizza, and waves her parents off on their trip.

***

Even though part of the objective in having parental supervision-free house for the evening had been so Clara could learn to control her heat vision, she can’t help but think about what she could do instead. Inviting Chloe and Pete to assist them in fully mending their friendship is out, since there’s no way Mr. and Mrs. Ross will let him come over when it’s just her and Chloe at the house. She considers inviting Lana and Chloe instead, to help them become better friends, but it occurs to her that all the typical games and entertainments that they would enjoy at home are missing from the Kent household. She doesn’t have much make-up or nail polish, and indeed nothing that’s seemingly required in all the sleepovers she’s watched in movies and television shows.

Of course, her thoughts inevitably turn to Lex.

Clara has yet to see him, not even when she’d made her produce delivery. It’s astounding how much she misses him despite having only known him for a few weeks. She’d claimed him as a friend, but it hadn’t been until she’d lost his friendship that it had hit her how much she values him and how important he is to her. She bitterly regrets having asked Lex to dance. If it hadn’t been for that, if she hadn’t given herself away… She wishes she could tell him she’s more than happy to just be his friend because he’d been her friend first before anything else.

Clara firmly nods to herself. She’ll invite Lex over for dinner that evening where she’ll make it clear she’s missed him and is only interested in his friendship. He’s been avoiding her but then she hasn’t really made that big of an effort to confront him either for fear that she’ll embarrass herself or be rejected face to face. But she’s already devastated at the loss of his friendship and honestly, she can’t imagine things between her and Lex worsening.  

She can always practice mastering her heat vision once he leaves.

Even if she hadn’t had any powers, having grown up with Martha Kent as her mother, Clara would’ve known her way around the kitchen; however, as Martha had used cooking – baking, especially – to help Clara learn to control her strength and speed, she knows she can make a dinner that will actually taste good even if it may not be Lex’s type of fare. And while there’s a huge television with surround sound system at the mansion – not to mention an excellent cook – Clara thinks Lex has probably never experienced the comfort of a meal eaten in a warm and cozy home, and that he might enjoy himself if he does.

Of course, her friends then have to go and ruin the whole thing.

“What are you gonna do now that you’re officially home alone?” Pete asks as they’re exiting the school.

“Maybe a party?” Chloe suggests. “I think we could all use one.”

“Definitely,” Pete echoes.

“No,” Clara vetoes. “No party.” There’s absolutely no way she’s going to throw a party while her parents are out of town. Not only can’t she afford it, but even if she opts to host a party, she knows it’ll be beyond lame seeing as there’s very little for anyone to do at the farm. Besides, she would much prefer to spend some time mending fences with Lex anyway.

“Do my ears deceive me or is Clara Kent actually suggesting a party?” Lana teases as she walks over with Whitney.

Clara groans. “I said no party. My mom was stressing enough about having to leave me all by my lonesome as it is; if she finds out I threw a party-”

“Did someone say a party at Kent’s house at 8 tonight with no adult supervision?” Brent yells from behind them.

The effects of those words are immediate – cheers and whistles ring out around them. After all the recent stress and losses, everyone is eager to let loose. Clara and her friends try their best to deny Brent’s claim, and Whitney also attempts to help by telling Brent to knock it off, but it’s too late. Plenty of students have already heard Brent as they’re getting into their cars, and Clara can hear plans being made to get kegs of beer to her house. Within the span of a couple of minutes, word about the party has spread like wildfire to what seems like the entire population of Smallville High, and it becomes clear that there will be a party at her house that evening whether Clara wants it or not.

“Oops?” Chloe offers with a wince.

Lana looks at her apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Clara. Maybe you could lock the doors?”

Pete looks around them at the crowd that’s rapidly dispersing. “If you do, they’re going to knock them down.”

Clara groans. “My parents are going to kill me.”

***

For a good hour, Clara contemplates locking the doors and calling the sheriff’s office when the denizens of Smallville High attempt to swarm uninvited into her house. Unfortunately, she’s already considered enough of a loser at school as it is; she can only imagine how much worse things will get for her if she cancels the party and calls the cops on them – never mind that Clara isn’t the one that had issued the invitations to any of them in the first place.

Her friends, feeling terribly guilty about inadvertently causing the entire mess, show up soon after, offering their assistance. Lana even brings over her home audio system in Whitney’s truck, just in case, which Clara gratefully accepts. Whitney even puts his truck at her disposal for whatever she may need, including a trip to Granville for supplies if necessary. After assessing the space, her friends offer to help her lock away anything valuable or breakable.

And so, every breakable item – including plates, mugs, and picture frames – along with anything particularly valuable, are carried upstairs and into the bedrooms where they litter every available surface. Whitney and Clara then MacGyver the doors so that they won’t easily open, in hopes of deterring the curious and the drunken and horny from entering the rooms. Once that’s done, the quartet decide to head into town to buy garbage bags, paper towels, disposable plates and cups, snacks, and of course, furniture covers – or at least plastic saran wraps – so that the Kents’ furniture will come out of the whole thing at least somewhat intact.

Once they’re gone, Clara goes into the storm cellar. She hasn’t been down there since she’d first discovered the truth of her origins, but with the student population of Smallville High due to descend on the farm in a couple of hours, she needs to make sure the alien ship is secured. After using her x-ray vision to make sure there isn’t anyone about, Clara zips into the back forty with her pod and the metal tablet. She digs a hole deep enough that no one else would be able to dig it back up without some heavy-duty equipment.

When she goes to grab the ship, her thumb catches on a peculiar groove. Frowning, Clara looks down and sees a precise, octagonal indent on a raised, horizontal metal band that decorate the two sides of the egg-shaped pod. Wondering if it’s ornamental, she looks at the other side only to see a smooth metal strip, with no indents or grooves or slots visible. Clara gives the ship a thorough examination, but the octagonal depression on that one side is the only anomaly on an otherwise smooth, metal ship.

Almost like a space for a key.

Even as Clara shakes her head and lowers the pod into the hole, telling herself she’s being ridiculous, she can’t help but remember her father telling her he’d just about managed to pull the metal tab from the interior of the ship before it closed, and that they’ve never been able to open up the ship since. It could have run out of whatever battery it uses when it landed on Earth, but that wouldn’t explain how the ship was able to close itself; surely if it had run out of power, the pod wouldn’t have been able to do so.

Clara suddenly feels a desperate urge to go to Miller’s Field where the ship had crash landed, to see if she can find an octagonal piece of metal anywhere near there. Forcibly quashing the urge, she makes herself toss all the dirt back into the deep hole she’d dug, burying the ship and the tablet. Her friends are going to be back soon and she really can’t afford to dally.

After taking a shower to wash all the dirt off, she does a last minute inspection of the house. Everything valuable or breakable that can be moved has been locked away upstairs. The only thing left now is to wait for her friends to return.

So of course her thoughts inevitably turn to the possibility of there being a key to her spaceship, one that, if it opens her pod, could lead to answers to every one of her questions she’s had since she’d discovered she’s an alien.

But what are the chances that it is a key to her ship? And who’s to say that, even if she does find this key, it’ll lead to answers she seeks? After all, it’s not like the spaceship is particularly big, and she highly doubts that the race she belongs to speaks English. Perhaps the key will only lead to more questions she can’t answer, or give her answers that she doesn’t want to hear.

What if she’d been sent to Earth because her parents – her birth parents – hadn’t wanted her? Maybe these powers of hers are strange, even to other aliens, and they’d considered her too much of a freak to live among them.

Clara huffs out a breath and forces herself to calm down.

In the end, Clara can’t help but admit that no matter her ambivalence, she doesn’t have a choice here – she needs to find the octagonal metal before someone else does. The fact of the matter is the metal of the spaceship is unlike anything from Earth, which means the key will likely be the same, and the last thing she needs is to have it be discovered by some random person and risk her secret being exposed.

After checking to make sure the coast is clear, Clara zips straight over to Miller’s Field. Being careful to remain hidden from view – not that there’s anyone around to see her – she activates her x-ray vision and begins to sweep the entire field. There are a few false alerts, but Clara eventually locates the distinct octagonal metal. Double-checking to make sure no one else is around, she quickly digs it up and speeds on home.

Before she can start to worry about what to do with the key now in her possession, Clara hears Whitney’s truck coming down the road.

“Damn it!” she mutters, inwardly chastising herself for her impatience. It’s too late now to go hide the key with the ship. After several attempts at hiding it in various places around the house – her father’s toolbox, inside a tub of flour, in the toilet tank – she opts to tuck the octagonal metal under her mattress. She’s just coming back downstairs when she hears her friends enter with the supplies in tow.

“Well, shall we get started?”

***

As Clara had feared, the yard is full of parked cars – with many a high school student loitering around their vehicles or in some cases sitting on the beds of their trucks – and her house is full to capacity. There is enough loud music blaring that she’s actually surprised the cops aren’t already here to shut down the party.

“Do you even recognize half these people?” she yells to Chloe. The blonde is manning the food and drinks table while also keeping an eye on the stairs leading to the second floor.

“What time is it?” Chloe hollers back.

“You still have half an hour before Pete comes to relieve you!”

Leaving Chloe to scowl, Clara wanders around the party. She worriedly spots a guy she doesn’t recognize stumbling towards the plastic-covered couch. He’s dripping with sweat, and when she goes over to see if he’s okay, he informs her, “Man, I think I’m gonna hurl.”

Wincing, Clara quickly looks around. Spotting a half-empty garbage bag by the door, she zips away too fast to be noticed by anyone, not that anyone is looking in her direction. She grabs the bag and returns just in time to place it under his face to catch the vomit. With an expression of disgust, she only stays by his side for fear of the vomit spilling onto the living room floor.

“Thanks,” he mumbles after he throws up. He’s glassy-eyed and clearly drunk, though it doesn’t look like he’ll be dying from alcohol poisoning any time soon.  

“Right. Don’t mention it,” Clara informs him, before taking the bag once it looks like he’s done and quickly tying it off so that the smell doesn’t get to her too.

She’s outside throwing it into the garbage bin when Lana comes up behind her.

“You know, you’re taking this really well. If I had a hundred people trashing my house, I’d be a little freaked out.”

Clara shrugs. “Nothing I can do about it now,” she points out. “Besides, after a while, you kind of get used to it.”

“Have I mentioned how sorry I am?” Lana says again.

Before Clara can answer, she hears the familiar sounds of fireworks. She looks up only to see the brilliant lights of the colorful pyrotechnics exploding over the sky above her house.

As the partygoers cheer and swarm outside to watch, Chloe and Pete appear next to them.

“Clara, dude, how cool is this?”

She frowns. “Pete, I know you guys want to make it up to me, but this is going way too far. Why didn’t you just call the cops if you wanted to get rid of the crowd? It would have been a lot easier and less expensive.”

“Hey, I can’t claim credit. It wasn’t my idea,” he protests.

“It was mine,” comes the achingly familiar voice of Lex.

When Clara whips around, he smiles at her. “Call it a party gift. I hope you like it.”

She can’t help but stare at him, flabbergasted at his sudden appearance. Considering how he’s been avoiding her for days, she’s astounded that he’s here in front of her, acting perfectly friendly like everything’s all normal between them.

Clara roughly swallows and opens her mouth to say something, though no words come to mind. Another burst of explosion catches her eye and she eagerly takes in the sky as it lights up brilliantly in red and white, taking the opportunity to think of what to say that isn’t just gibberish.

“I mean it’s great, just…”

“Don’t worry about the police, it’s covered,” Lex tells her. “I know this kind of party can make or break a reputation, and I wanted to make sure yours was a hit.”

Clara wants to tell him that this isn’t her party and she’d never intended to throw one, that she’d wanted to have a home-cooked dinner with him so she could apologize, but another loud burst of fireworks thankfully catches her attention and keeps her from making a fool of herself.

Before an awkward silence can settle between them, Lex says with an admiring look at the sky, “I hear you’re taking a tour of my plant tomorrow.”

Chloe sighs and looks less than pleased at the reminder. Considering her dad is the plant manager, Clara doesn’t doubt that it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. “It’s a class field trip.”

“What’d you do wrong?” he quips.

“That bad, huh?” Clara jokes back. She can’t help but notice that there’s a careful distance between them that had never existed before, a stiffness to their interaction that feels awkward and makes her want to fidget in discomfort.

Just as she opens her mouth to ask him for a moment alone, as if to illustrate clearly that Lex’s efforts on her behalf for the party she’d never wanted had just been another instance of his generosity, a gorgeous Asian woman in an equally beautiful dress appears beside Lex and touches his arm before draping herself over his shoulder.

“Sorry I took so long. Someone overflowed the bathroom.”

Clara winces. Taking the opportunity to look away from the stunning couple Lex and his date make, she looks over at her friends. “I’m officially dead.”

As if to cement that fact, the phone rings unanswered in the house since Clara can’t hear it over the burst of fireworks, loud cheers, and the music that’s still blasting into the night.

***

Lex and his date leave before the fireworks end. Clara is glad she no longer has to try and pretend that everything is normal, particularly because any longer and she fears she’s going to give herself away to Chloe. On the other hand, she can’t stand that this is how their first interaction after the revelation of Clara’s unreciprocated crush will end.

“Lex!” she calls out after him before he can get into his car.

When he turns around and quirks an eyebrow, however, Clara finds herself chickening out.

“Thank you for the fireworks. See you tomorrow. At the tour.”

Even as she beats herself up for being pathetic, Lex nods. “Have a good night, Clara.”

With the end of the fireworks, the majority of the students thankfully opt to head out, leaving the crowd to be of a more manageable size. Clara actually receives a few congratulations for throwing an awesome party, and while she knows it’s completely superficial and something she had nothing to do with, to actually have them acknowledging her existence in a positive way is actually really nice. Even if the majority of them have no idea who she is let alone know her name, the few positive acknowledgments help make up a little for the way she’d completely made a fool of herself in front of Lex.

As Clara is about to re-enter the house, Lana calls out with some urgency, “Clara!”

Considering Lana and Whitney had snuck out to the barn for some alone time, it sends a frisson of alarm down her back to see Lana hurrying over towards her.

“Is someone hurt?” she asks.

“You’d better get out here.”

Joined by Chloe – with Pete now manning the snack table – they enter the barn. Whitney, holding a pitchfork, is standing some distance away from a corner where, in between the bales of hay, a large dirty cloth is draped over something that’s moving. Clara grabs a flashlight and turns it on, though she’s prevented from moving any closer by Whitney’s extended arm. Before she can push forward, Whitney whips the cloth away revealing a black man who’s sprawled out on the ground and covered with sweat.

“Gotcha!” he yells, thrusting the pitchfork in the intruder’s face.

But Clara recognizes the man. “Earl! Whitney, it’s okay, I know him.”

As Whitney reluctantly puts down the pitchfork, Clara approaches with a soft, welcoming smile that quickly turns into a look of concern at seeing Earl’s terrible state. He’s breathing harshly and seems to be unable to stop moving, and despite the cold temperature, he’s covered in sweat.

“Earl, what are you--? Are you okay?”

“I came to see your dad,” he rasps out. “He’s the only one I can trust.”

Clara frowns. “He’s out of town.”

When Earl starts to shake, she reaches for him. “Earl, what’s wrong?”

Except she feels the familiar weakness and pain as her hand nears Earl’s knee, and she can see the veins of her hand starting to bulge and turn green. Clara quickly pulls her hand back and is horrified as he goes into some kind of a seizure. Her head whips towards Chloe.

“Call an ambulance!”

***

As an unresponsive Earl is wheeled away on a gurney, they’re left to wait in the reception area of the hospital. Clara, sitting on a hard plastic chair, bites her lip and runs her fingers over the ends of her hair in agitation as Chloe, who’d accompanied her, gets a can of Pepsi from the vending machine.

“That guy should be in a detox center.”

“He’s not on drugs, Chloe,” Clara protests.

Chloe plops down next to her. “Then why was he shaking like a junkie?”

“Look, Earl worked at our farm for 6 seasons. I spent 12 hours a day with the guy out in the fields,” she says. A fond smile curls her lips as she reminisces. “He even taught me how to play the guitar. He told me he learned because it was a good way to impress women.”

Chloe scoffs. “Yeah, we’re all suckers for a guy with a 6-string.”

When Clara looks at her reproachfully, she asks, “How come I’ve never heard you play?”

Clara shrugs. “Because I don’t have a guitar?” She looks a little sheepish. “I accidentally broke the one he’d given me a few years back. Never got a chance to replace it.”

“You know, just because you spend a lot of time with someone doesn’t mean you know their darkest secrets,” Chloe gently points out.

She looks away. “He was like family,” she whispers.

“Then why did he leave?”

“He took a job at the LuthorCorp plant. It was full-time and the pay was better.” Clara still isn’t bothered by it and neither are her parents. Considering Earl and his wife had been expecting their first child, they’d understood when he’d left them for LuthorCorp.

Just then, two Metropolis cops come through the doors and make their way to the reception desk.

“Where can we find Earl Jenkins?” one of them asks a nurse.

Both she and Chloe stand up from their seats as the nurse informs them, “Exam room 3, down the hall.”

Clara pipes up as she approaches the cops. “Excuse me. I’m a friend of Earl’s. Is he in some kind of trouble?”

The second cop answers gravely, “Oh yeah.”

Just then, they hear screaming from Earl’s room along with a man crying out, “We need some help in here!”

The cops rush over and Clara and Chloe follow. They watch horrified as Earl, standing by the bed, shakes uncontrollably.

“What the hell?”

As the cops try to subdue Earl, one of them gets thrown across the room to join the downed nurse, who seems to have been knocked out after hitting the metal shelving unit.

“Earl!” Clara cries out and tries to help, only to find herself being tossed through the large window and out into the hallway.

She can’t help but think this is becoming a too frequent occurrence lately.

“Clara!” Chloe runs over and does her best to brush off the bits of glass from her coat. “Are you okay?”

Clara is too preoccupied watching Earl suddenly stop shaking and fall to the ground in a faint to answer.

***

To Clara’s dismay, getting thrown through a glass window isn’t something she’s just able to brush off, particularly when she’s in a hospital and the bystanders are healthcare professionals. Clara has never been more thankful that her parents can’t afford a cell phone, as she knows they would’ve come right back to Smallville despite her assurances that she’s fine. At least none of the doctors or nurses seem curious over her smooth back that’s lacking any evidence of cuts, and the doctor examining her concludes she’s quite lucky. She does warn her that she’ll likely be sore and in pain once the adrenaline wears off, and Clara’s even given a script for some prescription-strength ibuprofen with instructions to follow up in the next few days.

Chloe, after getting confirmation that Clara is okay, offers to return to the house to handle the cleanup. They’d left Lana, Whitney, and Pete in charge of the party, and as Chloe notes, “Lana, I’m sure, has already started cleaning, and no doubt everyone else will join in to prevent her princess hands from getting dirty.”

Seeing that Clara looks like she might protest, Chloe insists.

“And don’t worry, Clara,” she adds, “I doubt it’ll take us all that long to get everything sorted.”

At last, Clara decides to give in to the superior force of Hurricane Chloe. Besides, she’d rather stay and find out what’s going on with Earl anyway.

“Thanks Chloe.”

By the time Clara finally gets in to see Earl, it’s early morning. Seemingly every test under the sun has been performed, and Earl even had to be knocked out again because he started seizing and nearly broke the CT scanner. Thankfully no one had gotten hurt that time, and despite the fact that he’s still unconscious, a deputy is in the isolated room with him, keeping watch.  

Unfortunately, Clara can’t get more than a few steps into the room before she feels the familiar pangs of nausea and pain. She’d thought Earl had a meteor rock on his person in the barn, but he’s now in a hospital gown and the police have confiscated all of his personal belongings. There’s no way a meteor rock is in this hospital room, yet her body is still reacting as if there is.

Giving the excuse that her back is starting to ache, Clara hurriedly backs out of Earl’s room. Unable to visit Earl and with more questions than answers, she finally opts to return home.

Clara is relieved to find that the house is not only still standing, but that the mess she’d been envisioning – of empty bags, popcorn, and other snacks littering the floor and tables, with suspicious substances pooling everywhere – is nowhere to be seen. Even the plastic covering all the furniture has been stripped off. The only things out of place are the placements of the stuff that’d been moved upstairs, which is easy enough to fix.

After Clara super speeds back and forth to get everything back to exactly where they’re supposed to be, she sits down at the kitchen table and grabs an apple from the bowl. Giving a satisfied nod at how clean and perfect everything looks, she reminds herself to thank her friends for helping out.

Only to freeze at hearing the slow clapping from behind her.

Closing her eyes and wincing, she braces herself and turns around and sees her parents standing by the stairs. Martha’s actually even holding a plunger, Clara notes with a cringe.

She stands and backs away a little, as though that’ll help protect her from their anger. “Hi. You’re home early.”

They don’t look pleased. Martha says pointedly, “We called 6 times last night and spoke with 5 different people, none of whom knew who you were.”

Clara sighs as she sits back down. “I didn’t even want to throw a party!”

Her parents don’t look appeased.

“Clara, where have you been?” Jonathan asks gravely.

“The hospital.”

“That’s it, I’m never leaving home again,” Martha dryly remarks. “Who got hurt?”

“Nobody. But I found Earl Jenkins hiding in the barn. He was looking for you, dad.” She shakes her head. “He’s all messed up.”

Jonathan and Martha exchange concerned glances. “What’s the matter with Earl?”

“I don’t know, but he’s wanted for murder.”

Jonathan looks taken aback. “Earl?” he says incredulously.

Clara nods; she still has trouble believing it herself.

“What did he have to say for himself?”

“I couldn’t even get close,” she admits.

“How come, the police?” he asks.

“No, because when I got near him, I got sick. It was weird. I mean, every time I stood next to him, it got worse. It was kind of like…”

“Like what?” Martha prompts.

Clara licks her lips. “It was kind of like the way I feel around meteor rocks.”

Considering she’d never felt such weakness and pain due to another human being before – and Lana doesn’t count since that had been due to her meteor rock necklace – Clara can’t help but worry.

Martha and Jonathan exchange yet another looks of concern.

***

Although Clara wants to return to the hospital with Jonathan, the fact that she’s been forcefully tossed through a glass window – witnessed by the hospital staff – means she has to remain at home. Having to explain that to her parents hadn’t been fun, though they’d understood that there’d been nothing else she could’ve done. But that just makes them all the more adamant that she refrain from going near Earl, especially since she becomes weak near him. As her father reminds her, if she’s visibly in pain or worse, passes out at the hospital, that’ll lead to a whole other set of problems they can’t afford.

Martha naturally decides this means Clara needs to not only do her chores but also face her punishment for throwing a party, which is being grounded for the foreseeable future. After school, unless she has to work on _The Torch_ or make deliveries, she’s restricted to the farm.

As badly as Clara had screwed up, a part of Martha actually finds herself glad for it, since their worry and anger over their daughter’s misbehavior had done much to smooth over any remaining strain between her and Jonathan. However, just because the outcome had been favorable for them doesn’t mean Clara gets off scot-free, especially since she and Jonathan had had to cut their stay in Metropolis short.

At least they’d gotten to enjoy the Jacuzzi tub.

Clara naturally objects, as it hadn’t been her choice to throw a party and she’d only been forced to have it because of an asshole.

Martha, looking somewhat disappointed, reiterates, “You weren’t forced, Clara, and you always have a choice.”

Clara can’t help but acknowledge her mother has a point, and feels like even more of a heel.

***

At the hospital, Jonathan watches through the glass window into Earl’s room as a doctor listens to his heart. The deputy is stationed just inside the room next to the door. Although he wants to march in there and demand answers, he forces himself to patiently wait for the doctor to come out.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jonathan asks when she at last exits the room and closes the door behind her.

After confirming that Earl has authorized his private medical information to be shared with Jonathan, the doctor leads him over to the bank of x-ray film viewers.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t have the faintest idea,” she admits. “It’s amazing his body’s been able to survive the seizures this long. Here, take a look at the x-rays. It looks like he’s got some sort of mineral poisoning, but it’s not from any mineral I’ve seen before.”

Although she flicks on the lights, illuminating the films and making them visible, Jonathan has no idea what he’s supposed to be looking at.

Seeing his confusion, she points out, “Tiny fragments are embedded under his skin. His body is slowly trying to push them out.”

“How did they get in there?”

The doctor looks concerned as she says, “He claims there was an explosion at the LuthorCorp plant 6 months ago.”

Jonathan’s brows furrow. “I don’t remember hearing anything about that.”

“That’s because it didn’t happen,” she informs him. “I pulled the plant’s safety records and I checked with OSHA and the EPA.”

Jonathan, knowing better than most of Lionel Luthor and his shady business practices, doesn’t tell her that he could have easily doctored the records and bribed the officials at those agencies. Instead he asks, “Doc, can I go in and talk to him myself?”

She nods. “Better hurry up. Metropolis PD will be here any minute to transfer him back to the city.”

“Thanks.”

The deputy, recognizing Jonathan, helpfully leaves the room to allow him to talk to Earl alone when Jonathan wordlessly shoots him a look.

Earl smiles and extends his hand. “Jonathan, am I glad to see you.” His smile falters a beat later. “How’s Clara? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“She’s okay,” Jonathan reassures him. Furrowing his brows, he adds, “All right, Earl, what’s going on? I can’t believe that you’d want to kill anybody.”

“It was an accident,” he confesses. “I-I was trying to s-see Lionel Luthor.”

Jonathan is taken aback at that. He’d thought Earl would deny the accusation or have a better explanation than just that it’d been an accident. And it stuns him that he’s not showing even a little remorse for the death of another human being that he’d apparently inadvertently caused.

“Why?” Jonathan rasps out.

“To find out what they were using on Level 3.”

He grips the bedrail. “Earl, you’re not making any sense.”

“When I got that job at the Smallville plant, I was assigned to clean Level 3. They were doing these hush-hush crop experiments, a new kind of fertilizer that’s supposed to make corn grow twice as fast. There was something in the fertilizer that was unstable. There was a huge explosion. I-I was cleaning up at the time, and this stuff… it-it got under my skin. And the next thing I know, they shut it all down and I was transferred to Metropolis. Then 2 months ago, the jitters started.”

“Did you see a doctor?”

“I must have seen 50! But nobody could tell me what was wrong. They needed to know what I was exposed to. But when I went back to the plant, they told me that Level 3 didn’t exist. That it never had. I gotta find out what they were using. That’s why I need your help. You gotta get me out of here,” he pleads.

Jonathan looks away before he forces himself to meet his eyes. “Earl, you’re wanted for murder.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Earl says, grabbing at Jonathan in desperation. When Jonathan keeps avoiding his hands, he grasps onto the front of Jonathan’s shirt, forcing Jonathan to grab his hands to stop him from pulling him down. “I can’t control it. I’m running out of time. The jitters are getting worse. It’s already cost me my job, my marriage, my baby. I gotta get back into that plant or I’m gonna die. Help me,” he begs.

Jonathan breathes in deeply. “You get some rest, Earl,” he says softly, and gently pats the back of his hands until Earl reluctantly releases him and settles back down.

“My baby,” Earl whispers as Jonathan leaves the room.

Jonathan refuses to let his steps falter.

***

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Martha asks after his retelling.

“I have no idea,” Jonathan confesses, rubbing his forehead and wishing he could have something stronger than a cold beer. Seeing Earl like that had been unsettling, to say the least, and though he could easily imagine the events happening as Earl had told him, it had also been evident that there is something clearly wrong with Earl.

Not even an hour earlier, Jonathan would’ve defended Earl, would’ve insisted that a miscarriage of justice had been done. However, with Earl’s confession that he’d killed someone, even if it had been an accident, with seemingly no remorse… Jonathan isn’t sure what to believe anymore.

“I’ve got a field trip to the LuthorCorp plant this afternoon,” Clara reminds them. “Maybe I could take a look around.”

“You can’t go,” Martha tells her. “Remember, you got tossed through another window. It’ll look suspicious if you’re able to walk around perfectly fine mere hours after that. I’ve already called the school to excuse you from the field trip.”

When Clara looks to protest, Jonathan shakes his head.

“I know that you’re worried about Earl, sweetheart, but he’s got more trouble than he can handle. I don’t even know if he’s in his right mind, so please don’t- don’t do anything.”

Seeing the worried and unsettled expressions on her parents’ faces, Clara reluctantly nods.

***

That afternoon, Whitney, along with the freshman class of Smallville High – minus Clara – are on the school bus on their way to the LuthorCorp fertilizer plant. Not a few students bemoan how lucky it is Clara has found a way to get out of the field trip, with many insinuating she’d just gotten too drunk the night before and wishing they’d done the same. It’s only Pete’s firm hand on hers – as well as Clara’s assurances over the phone earlier that day explaining that she’s fine, just sore – that has Chloe able to maintain her temper.

“So what are you doing here, Whitney?” Chloe asks, eager to take her mind off of Clara. “Didn’t you do the trip to the plant in your freshman year?”

He sighs. “I was supposed to, but I skipped it. I was hoping I could graduate without seeing the pile of shit, but someone noticed I’d never gone so… here I am. Yay.”

Lana gives his arm a sympathetic pat. “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you’re expecting,” she reassures him.

“No, I’m sure it will be worse,” Chloe informs them all. After all, she knows exactly who will be giving them the tour.

To Chloe’s mortification, it doesn’t take long before her words prove prescient. Dressed in a suit and tie sans a jacket, Chloe’s father stands in front of them all.

“Hello everybody. I’m Gabe Sullivan, plant manager and proud father. Hi, sweetheart,” he says, waving his fingers at Chloe.

As the other students turn to look at her, Chloe reluctantly greets him.

“Hi dad,” she says, clearly looking as though she wants to be anywhere but there. She takes a step back to stand behind Whitney, whose lips quirk but allow the blonde to use his bulk to hide.

“Welcome to LuthorCorp, where we give a crap,” Gabe then says.

“Okay, somebody kill me now,” Chloe mutters.

“A little fertilizer humor there,” Gabe continues, chuckling, clearly not bothered by the fact that nobody else is laughing. “All right, before we go inside, I need you to remove all your cell phones, pagers, jewelry. Anything that jangles, dangles, or rings needs to go in these plastic trays right here. All right, any questions? Okay then, let’s get started.”

As the last of the students finish putting their things in the bin, Gabe gestures. “This way, everybody.”

“All right people, let’s stay together,” their chaperone reminds them all.

Chloe reluctantly follows along.

***

The tour is incredibly boring, as there really isn’t much to see. Thankfully their misery is almost at an end, as they at last arrive at the final stop of the tour.

“This is it,” Gabe says, opening his arms wide. “The plant’s mission control. 100,000 tons of animal waste is processed here every year. Trust me, the results can be pretty explosive. So if any of you had beans for lunch, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Chloe no longer bothers to roll her eyes as her dad laughs. He’s been making these pathetic jokes the entire tour, and she’s pretty much been inured to her dad’s corniness at this point.

Hearing Pete let out a chuckle beside her, she informs him dryly, “Among his peers, he’s considered witty.”

“Mm-hmm,” he replies with a reveling smile on his face. Chloe doesn’t bother to resist the urge to smack him.

Before Pete can retaliate, they hear rattling from the next room, which causes the door to shake and the handle to move back and forth.

“What the heck?” Gabe says, and makes his way through the gathered students. “Excuse me.”

Before he can reach the door handle, it opens and Earl, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, comes out and grabs Gabe.

“Don’t move!” he orders them all, holding the gun with his right hand.

Whitney pulls Lana back behind him, and Gabe shakes his head at Chloe, telling her to stay put.

Earl puts the gun to Gabe’s temple and orders, “Take me to Level 3. Now!”

“Dad,” Chloe whispers in horror.

***

Within minutes of Earl taking the Smallville High students hostage, ambulance, police and SWAT arrive, followed soon after by the media. After that, it doesn’t take long before worried parents gather outside the plant’s chain link fence.

At the Kent farm, Martha turns on the television only to see the news report of a hostage situation at the LuthorCorp plant.

“Oh no,” Clara gasps.

Despite Jonathan and Martha’s efforts, Clara refuses to remain behind. Realizing that if they head over there without her she’ll just follow after them, they reluctantly allow her to come along as they drive over to the plant. They’re not far away when their truck is overtaken by a black Ferrari convertible with a suited Lex in the driver’s seat.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Clara,” Lex says with relief when they pull over.

Clara is too distraught to feel any pleasure at seeing Lex’s concern over her wellbeing. “My friends are in there,” she tells him, her voice shaky with fear. She can’t help but bemoan that she didn’t insist on going on the field trip, because she knows she could’ve done something. At the very least, she would now be there with her friends, giving comfort where she can.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure they all get out safely,” Lex promises.

“Can I ask what’s going on?” Martha asks.

“There’s a lunatic inside demanding to be taken to some place called Level 3.”

At that, all three Kents share a look of horror.

Lex’s eyes narrow at that even as he continues. “We’ve managed to evacuate the plant, but he’s taken the students, their chaperone, and Gabe Sullivan hostage.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Clara asks.

Lex shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Despite clearly dreading the answer, Jonathan asks, “What’s his name?”

“Earl Jenkins.”

Jonathan almost groans. He’d been afraid of that. He feels guilty he hadn’t seen this coming – considering what Earl has already done and his state of mind, he really should’ve known that something like this would happen.

“I know Earl Jenkins. He used to work for us,” he admits.

Lex’s gaze sharpens. “Well, what’s he doing in my plant?”

“He claims that LuthorCorp is doing some crop experiments on some secret Level 3 and that’s what made him sick. He’s convinced that it’s the only place he can get a cure.”

At that, Lex can’t quite hide his exasperation. He quickly gets himself under control, however, and explains the problem to the Kents. “Then we’ve got a serious problem because there is no Level 3.”

“Let us come with you,” Clara pleads. “Maybe we can help. Earl knows my dad and trusts him. Maybe he’ll be able to reason with him into letting everyone go.”

Lex pauses. He wants to insist Clara be left behind, but he has a feeling she’ll find a way to sneak in, and besides, he’ll feel better if she’s somewhere where he can keep an eye on her and make sure she’s safe.

He nods. “Follow me.”

As Lex pulls up at the plant, one of the employees opens the gate to allow him through. He informs the security to let the Kents in also, though the SWAT team captain demands they leave their truck behind. As the parents and reporters yell Lex’s name, the Kents hurriedly go through the opened gates even as the police and security prevent anyone else from following through.

“We’ll check on Derek and Jeff for you,” Jonathan tells two of the parents he sees as the gate closes behind them.

They follow Lex to an area set up with a whole bunch of equipment, where Lex signs off on paperwork an employee hands him. Their gazes turn to a monitor displaying the students and Earl in the control room. The students are all sitting on the floor against either the wall or in the center of the room by a console, with Gabe sitting in a chair as Earl paces around them, his shirtsleeves rolled up and a gun clutched in his right hand.

“Oh Earl,” Clara whispers in despair. She wishes not for the first time that she could be inside the plant with her friends.

***

They’ve barely been there for 5 minutes when the sound of an approaching helicopter is heard. Lex looks up apprehensively before his face quickly smoothes out.

“Who’s that?” Martha asks.

“My father.”

As Lex had predicted, Lionel Luthor soon steps out of the helicopter and onto the helipad. He immediately starts climbing up the stairs towards the staging area.

“Mr. Luthor, we have a hostage situation,” the SWAT team captain informs him.

“I was briefed on my way down.” He runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it out from where the spinning of the helicopter rotor blades had sent it into disarray. The moment he spots his son, he demands, “Lex! How did you allow this to happen?”

“I didn’t allow anything,” Lex argues.

Lionel retorts, “Then how did this man get inside?”

Lex can’t help but give a minute flinch at the accusation. Certainly the security around the plant is not as tight as it should’ve been, but then again, it isn’t as though he’d been aware of the existence of any former employees who not only bears a grudge but also had shown not just violent tendencies but actual capacity for murder. It’s not all his fault.

That unfortunately doesn’t lessen the guilt he feels when he recalls Clara’s pale and desperate face.

Lex shoves that image out of his mind and tries to answer his father’s question. “I think-”

“You think? Why don’t you know, Lex?” Lionel demands.

Clara can’t believe a parent could be so cruel and callous to his own child. Of course she hadn’t had all too good of an impression of Lionel Luthor after hearing tirades about the man from her father as well as what little Lex has said about him, but seeing it is a completely different beast altogether. Unable to stand the rapid-fire dressing down Lex is receiving – completely undeserved, in her opinion – Clara speaks up.

“It’s not his fault-” she begins heatedly before Jonathan steps forward and interrupts.

“Can we focus on what’s important?” he demands. “We’ve got innocent kids in there.”

Lionel stares at him in something of a surprise, even as Jonathan purposefully avoids meeting his gaze.

“This is Jonathan Kent,” Lex introduces.

“It’s been a long time but I never forget a face,” Lionel says, and offers a hand to Jonathan.

Clara turns to her father in surprise. She’d never realized he personally knew Lionel Luthor; in all his tirades against him, he’d never once mentioned having met or knowing the man. She wonders just how they know each other.

Shockingly, considering how he’d reacted to Lex, Jonathan actually shakes Lionel’s hand, even if he’s clearly reluctant. Lex, although startled that they’d met previously, doesn’t let that faze him for long. Instead he speaks up, trying to smooth over any offense his father might feel against the Kents for the insult, and to explain the reason for their presence.

“They know the gunman personally.”

“What’s your assessment of this lunatic?” Lionel questions as he barrels past Jonathan, heading for the monitor.

“He’s sick, he’s desperate… and he blames your plant for his condition.”

Lionel stares at the children and the gunman who’s pacing on the monitor. “This Level 3 nonsense?”

“I’ve assured everyone there is no Level 3.” Lex looks Lionel directly in the eye. “That is the truth, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.”

Lex doesn’t appear to be reassured by that. Neither does Jonathan.

“People’s lives are at stake. What are you going to do about it?”

Despite the horrific situation, Lionel doesn’t seem at all concerned. “I’m going to let SWAT do their job. When he makes a mistake, they’ll move in.”

A look of dismay appears on Clara’s face. Considering Earl is armed and desperate, “a mistake” is bound to result in terrible consequences for her friends. She can’t help the instinctive glance she shoots at Lex, hoping he doesn’t approve of his father’s plan. And while Lex thankfully doesn’t appear to be on the same page as Lionel, he’s also not speaking up.

Fortunately, Martha isn’t the type to remain silent when children’s lives are at stake. She demands, “What about the kids? You need to get on the phone and talk to him!”

Lionel turns to her. “Mrs. Kent, I understand how you feel. I want everyone to walk out of there alive too, but I do not negotiate with terrorists.”

Clara has never seen her mother so furious. Despite the hair color, she’s always been the peacekeeper in their family.

“He’s not a terrorist!” Martha retorts. “He’s sick and he- he needs help! If you won’t talk to him, then Jonathan will!”

Clearly in agreement with his wife, Jonathan heads over to the phone, intent on doing something rather than just standing around. Lex, however, blocks his way.

“You’re not the one he blames,” Lex says. “Is he, dad?”

Lionel doesn’t look pleased, but in the end he signals the SWAT team captain for a way to call the plant control room.

***

Most of the teens keep their heads down, too cowed and frightened to look at the crazed gunman as he continues to incessantly pace the room, occasionally muttering to himself. Chloe isn’t one of them, which makes Gabe both proud and terrified for her. Gabe has done his best to keep the man’s attention focused on him instead of the kids, and though it has worked thus far, keeping his attention isn’t good for his health either, and he knows his luck will not last long.

Indeed, the man’s gaze snaps to him as though he’s heard Gabe’s thoughts, and determinedly heads for him.

Gabe once again tries to reason with the man. “I swear, I don’t know anything about Level 3.”

Earl kicks the chair Gabe is sitting on before cocking the gun. “You’re lying.”

Thankfully the phone rings in the control room, and Gabe picks it up in relief.

“Gabe, it’s Luthor.”

He holds the phone out to Earl. He’s fiercely glad his hand doesn’t shake. “Lionel Luthor.”

“Speaker,” he demands. Gabe presses a button before putting the handset back into the cradle.

“Mr. Luthor,” Earl speaks as he stalks over to the phone. “I’ve finally got your attention, haven’t I?”

Outside the plant, Lionel is speaking into a headset while watching the monitor. Martha and Jonathan stand behind him, Clara clutched between them. Lex is beside his father, though Clara doubts he’s able to hear the conversation. With her freaky alien hearing, she of course can hear everything just fine.

“Earl, why don’t you come out? We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Just tell me what you were using down on Level 3.”

Unfortunately, rather than sounding sympathetic, Lionel sounds as though he’s reading from a script – and not well at that – when he says, “You’re sick, Earl. Let everyone go. We’ll get you help.”

Clara doubts he could sound any less sincere if he tries.

She looks at the monitor in alarm as Earl begins to shake uncontrollably, and he holds onto a gas valve to steady himself. As the students look on in terror, he accidentally breaks the valve that controls the methane gas. Almost immediately, the gauge shows the methane level starting to rise.

“Oh no,” Earl whispers. “See what you made me do? See what you made me…?” He strides over to the camera. “ _See what you made me do?_ ”

“Way to go, dad,” Lex says dryly. “I see you haven’t lost your touch.”

“The gas valve just broke,” Earl says. “The whole place is gonna go up.”

In the control room, gasps ring out at that. Whitney murmurs, “We need to do something.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Pete mutters back.

“That man’s nuts. He’s not listening to the cops and that methane gas is gonna blow.”

Lana grabs his hand. “Whitney, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not putting my life in that man’s hands.” Whitney looks over at Earl, who’s clearly not paying any attention to either his hostages or the methane gas. He looks at the nearby students, but they’re all 9th graders and none of them are big enough to help him. He determinedly stands up.

“Whitney,” Lana tries to restrain him, but he ignores her and slowly starts heading towards Earl.

“Luthor, I trusted you,” Earl is saying to the security camera. “You told me you were trying to help people.”

To Whitney’s surprise, he suddenly whips around. “What are you doing?”

Whitney launches forward and is able to knock the gun out of Earl’s hand. Unfortunately, Earl then punches Whitney in the face, sending him flying to the console, where he hits it hard enough to crack something. Whitney can’t hide his pained shout as he collapses onto the floor.

“Whitney!” Lana cries out.

Clara, seeing Whitney collapse on the monitor, tenses. She has never felt so powerless in her life. Just as she’s about to run inside, damn the consequences, she feels both of her parents putting their arms around her, grounding her and holding her in place. Clara won’t be able to shake them off of her without hurting one or both of them.

And so, she’s forced to watch as on the monitor, Earl picks up the gun and aims it at the hostages.

“Get back!” he orders, and the nearby students hurriedly carry Whitney back to where he was sitting before.

“It’s all your fault, Luthor,” Earl says, before shooting the camera. The picture on the monitor turns to snow.

“We’ve got a shot fired, one hostage down. Full alert,” the SWAT captain orders the others as he strides off.

“What was that boy thinking?” Lionel muses.

“He wasn’t,” Jonathan retorts. “He’s a teenager who’s been waiting for someone out here to take the initiative.”

Lex looks at Jonathan, and then darts a glance at a visibly distraught Clara.

Jonathan continues. “Look, you’ve got a hostage situation and a potential bomb in there. Somebody’s gotta do something.”

“You’re right,” Lex says. “I’m going in.”

As Lex strides towards where SWAT is gearing to enter the plant, Lionel follows. “Lex, don’t be foolhardy. This is not time for mock-heroics.”

Despite what it may seem like, Lex isn’t doing this just out of some misguided sense of responsibility. Yes, he wants to wipe that look from Clara’s eyes, but mostly, it’s because should Lionel’s plan to let SWAT handle the situation go awry – which it’s bound to do when an armed, delusional madman has a room full of hostages – the blame will fall squarely on his shoulders. And he refuses to take the fall for the death of high schoolers. At least if he tries to do something brave, even if he fails, he’ll come out of the whole mess smelling like roses when compared to his father.

Besides, after the mess with the bank robbery, he could use some good publicity.

“You said this is my plant. It’s my call.”

Lionel grabs his arm. “I won’t allow it, Lex.”

Lex looks down at his father’s hand on his arm before looking him in the eye. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Lionel’s lips twitch into an amused smile as he removes the offending limb.

The SWAT captain is ordering his men to take their positions when Lex approaches.

“Tell him Lex Luthor’s coming to see him,” he instructs the captain.

“I wouldn’t advise that, sir,” he replies.

“Make the call,” Lex orders, before turning to another agent. “Give me your vest.”

Even as the captain looks torn between exasperation and admiration, Lionel’s smile only widens, almost as though he can’t wait to see how this all works out. Clara, unable to stand looking at a man who almost seems excited to see his only son walking into danger that he himself had created, takes a step towards Lex.

Her parents stop her.

“Clara, no,” Jonathan quietly but firmly orders.

“I’m the best person-”

“You’re just as vulnerable around Earl as everyone else,” he points out. “And even if you were willing to risk it, there’s no way they’d let you in there.”

Knowing her father’s right, Clara watches helplessly in her parents’ arms as Lex, wearing only a bulletproof vest, walks into the plant.

***

As the methane level continues to rise, Lex enters the control room, his hands raised in the air and making it clear he’s unarmed.

“What kind of a man sends his own kid to do his dirty work?” Earl says as he approaches Lex.

“I’m not doing anybody’s dirty work, Earl. This is my plant.” He turns to Lana who has Whitney’s head lying across her lap. The blond is pale and drenched with sweat, his face twisted into a grimace, and his left arm is wrapped in white fabric, which is already soaked through with blood. “How is he?”

“He needs a doctor.”

Lex stops beside them. “What are we gonna do about these kids, Earl?”

He shakes his head. “I never meant to hurt anybody. I tried talking to your father but he wouldn’t listen to me.” 

Lex only just refrains from snorting. “I know the feeling.” Taking a gamble, he removes the bulletproof vest. “Earl, you say that everybody’s been lying to you. I’m gonna tell you the truth. My father doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anybody in this room. Because if we all die, his PR firm will spin it, his insurance company will pay out, and you, Earl, will go down as the bad guy.”

“I’m not the bad guy. I’m just trying to get better,” he insists.

Lex points out, “How are you gonna get better by killing a bunch of kids?”

When Earl has nothing to say to that, he walks closer. “If you let everybody go, I’ll take you to Level 3.”

Earl swiftly brings up the gun and points it at Lex. “You stop lying.”

Lex swallows nervously but he doesn’t flinch or back down. Maintaining eye contact, he says firmly, “Let them go, and I’ll show you where it is. Earl, trust me. I’m a man of my word.”

Earl turns to the hostages. “Get out. Get out. Get out! Everybody, get out!” he yells.

As Lex breathes out a sigh of relief, the hostages don’t hesitate. They all get up and sprint out of the control room, several guys supporting Whitney between them. Chloe swiftly runs over to her father and tightly clutches Gabe’s hand as they make their escape.

Not a single one of them looks back at Lex even once. Even as he acknowledges he would do the same in their position, he still can’t help the pang of anger at their ungratefulness. After all, he’s put his life on the line to save them, yet there’s not a single moment of hesitation or a look of gratitude. He knows Clara would’ve at least looked back if not insisted on staying, and not for the first time, Lex finds himself thankful that she’s outside and safe with her parents.

He chastises himself. Now isn’t the time to let his thoughts wander. His gambit may have paid off, but it’s not over yet. What happens next is going to be incredibly dangerous, with his very life hanging in the balance, and he can’t afford to be distracted. Indeed, he can feel his palms starting to sweat. Feeling like he can’t breathe, he impatiently tugs off his tie.

Clara, who has been following Lex with her x-ray vision, watches horrified as he remains in there with Earl as everyone else starts coming out. She can guess what he must have offered Earl in exchange, and considering his belief that Level 3 doesn’t exist, that means Lex is in grave danger once Earl realizes he can’t fulfill his end of the bargain.

“The kids are coming out,” the SWAT captain informs them after listening to his earpiece.

“Oh, Jonathan,” Martha breathes out in relief.

The captain turns to Lionel. “We need to bring down the fire doors. The gas levels are too high. Your son will be sealed inside. I’m sorry, sir.”

Lionel doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Clara wonders if he’s regretting letting Lex go into the plant, if he’s trying to come up with a way to save his son. He rubs his bottom lip with his finger, his gaze far away, as though contemplating something. He then nods and orders, “Do it.”

Clara, horrified, doesn’t let her parents keep her with them this time. Instead, she uses the distraction of her fellow students making their way out to speed as fast as she can into the plant, going so fast that she’s invisible to everyone. She neatly avoids the students and SWAT agents as she ducks through the lowering fire doors and into the plant.

Earl, after looking at the gauge, turns to Lex. “We’re running out of time. All right. I’ve done my part. Now it’s time for you to do yours.”

Lex, knowing it’s all a waiting game now, sits down on a nearby chair. He says carefully, “Earl, there is no Level 3. It’s all in your head.”

Enraged, Earl pistol-whips him in the head, causing him to fall to the ground with a grunt of pain.

As Clara pauses in the doorway, trying to figure out a way to save Lex, Earl begins to rant. “Every night, I go down to Level 2, I follow the red pipes down that long hallway, I go to the door, I open it, and I take the elevator down to Level 3! And you’re telling me it’s all in my head?”

Earl forcibly grabs Lex and makes him stand. Lex bites back the sounds of pain even as he holds his hand over the back of his head where he’d been struck.

“I should have never trusted you! You Luthors are all the same.”

Knowing she has no chance of taking Earl on one-on-one, especially with all those meteor fragments under his skin, Clara realizes that the best thing she can do is to find the damn elevator. Sending mental apologies Lex’s way, she speeds away. She follows Earl’s inadvertent instructions and finds herself in what looks like a random closet, except everything inside has been overturned. When she uses her x-ray vision to see through the wall, however, she sees the elevator that Earl had been speaking about.

“Earl!” she calls out as she enters the control room, though she does her best to keep her distance, to make sure she remains unaffected by Earl’s meteor rock-embedded body. “I found Level 3! They built a wall in front of the elevator but it’s still there.”

“Stop playing with me!” Earl roars even as Lex orders, sounding rather panicked, “Get out of here, Clara!”

Even when Earl throws Lex away from him, Clara forces herself to keep her eyes on him, knowing the best thing she can do for Lex is to get Earl to listen to her.

“Earl, it’s here.” When he seems to be wavering, Clara adds, “Earl, this is me speaking. I’m not lying to you, I promise.”

He roughly grabs Lex by the arm and lifts him back onto his feet. “Come on. I want you to see the truth.”

Clara pulls back and allows Earl and Lex to get in front of her. As they turn the corner, she speeds towards the methane gas valve and physically turns it to the right until the levels start coming down.

“Come on! Come on!” Earl yells.

She hurries and joins them, unwilling to test Earl’s patience.

***

“Sir,” the SWAT captain says to Lionel, who’s been busy on the phone since he’d sentenced his son to his death.

“Hold on,” Lionel says into the phone before turning to the captain.

“The gas pressure is beginning to drop.”

Lionel looks puzzled. “How did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

Martha and Jonathan, who overhear the exchange, breathe a sigh of relief. He tugs her close and inhales the scent of her hair, as they pray that their daughter makes it out safely.

***

When Earl and Lex open the closet door, they see that the back wall has been broken through to reveal the elevator, with an ax lying on the ground. Perhaps if Lex isn’t suffering from a head injury and is not in pain, he would have questioned just how Clara could have managed to clear so much space, even using an ax. But he’s not in the best condition and so it doesn’t yet register.

“Son of a bitch! How do you explain that?”

“I can’t,” Lex replies.

When Earl presses for the elevator, the door slides open. Clara braces herself as she enters after Earl and Lex, but she can’t disguise the pain she feels, and despite the fact that she hasn’t been pistol-whipped, she looks even worse than Lex.

“Are you alright?” Lex asks her, worriedly eyeing her pale face.

Clara shoots him a tight smile and gives an excuse that she hopes works. “I got thrown through a window a few hours ago. Again.”

Earl turns to her at that. “I’m sorry, Clara. You know I didn’t mean to-”

She shakes her head, eager to just get this over with. “It’s okay, Earl. I know.”

When they look over at the control, however, there are only 2 buttons.

“2 buttons, 2 levels. I’m sorry, all right?” Lex says.

Earl doesn’t even hesitate. He presses the space below the button for level 2, next to the red emergency stop button, and it lights up.

Lex freezes. Clara guesses knowing your father essentially sacrificed you to prevent revelations about questionable experimental research will do that to a person.

The elevator doors open into a dark room and Earl pushes Lex out, causing him to unceremoniously crash onto the floor. Earl flips a switch beside him, which lights up a large warehouse with a metal bridge across the top of the space, with the elevator positioned at the beginning of the bridge.

He starts to walk across it. “I told you it was here,” he gloats.

As Lex slowly follows, carefully examining the space, Earl pauses.

“Huh? Where is it? Where is everything? There used to be a- it was a field of corn with sprayers all over it. And every night they’d spray this green mist on it. What have you done with it? _What have you done with it?_ ”

Lex looks shaken. “I don’t know. They lied to me too, Earl. I had no idea this was here.”

Earl’s laugh makes him sound unhinged. Clara takes a step out of the elevator. “Earl, let’s go back upstairs and talk about this.”

“It’s all gone, Clara. How am I gonna get better if I don’t know what poisoned me?”

Before she can mention the meteor rocks, Lex says, nearly begging, “I didn’t know about this place, Clara. You’ve got to believe me.”

She holds out her hand towards him. “I know, Lex, I believe you.”

“He’s lying!” Earl shouts. “He’s just like his father!”

He tries to aim his gun at Lex but he starts seizing again, and the force of it is powerful enough to violently shake the metal bridge. Lex hangs tightly onto the railing with both hands to keep from tumbling off. Unfortunately the sheer force of Earl’s seizure is strong enough that bolts holding the metal structure together start popping out. Soon the bridge tilts, leaving Earl and Lex hanging off the side.

“Clara!” Lex yells.

Earl loses his grip and slides down further, until he’s hanging onto the very edge. Clara runs towards them, but the pain and weakness she feels as she gets closer to Earl causes her to stop. The change in weight distribution and weakening bridge leads it to crumble even more, and Lex gets thrown off from where he’s been hanging on.

“Lex!” Clara screams.

Lex just about manages to grab onto Earl’s legs. Unfortunately he makes the mistake of looking down, and his fear of heights sends his already hammering pulse skyrocketing. “No! Oh god!”

Knowing she has no other choice, Clara carefully makes her way across the steeply tilted section of the bridge. She gulps seeing the sheer drop to the ground. She tells herself that she has no reason to be terrified of heights given her seemingly invulnerable body, but no matter how ridiculous it is, she still can’t help but be fearful of being so high up in the air. Nevertheless, she forces herself to continue on, reminding herself that Lex and Earl’s lives are at stake.

Because of the tilt of the bridge, Clara has to tightly hang onto the railing with her right hand as she walks carefully over the other railing, with the floor of the bridge at her back. When she gets to where Earl is hanging, she stretches out her left hand. She grimaces in pain when it feels like her blood is boiling and the veins of her hand bulge and turn green, but she grips his forearm as firmly as she can before she starts to pull him up. For the first time in her life, Clara breaks out into a sweat. Her entire body burns and she screams, unable to ignore the pain any longer. But she still refuses to release her grip on Earl’s arm. As sweat drips down her face, she successfully manages to pull Earl up until he’s able to grab the railing next to her and Lex can grab onto the bottom part of the bridge.

Panting, she tells Earl, “Get to the elevator.”

Clara helps Lex get up the rest of the way after that and they painstakingly climb back up towards the elevator. Unfortunately, Earl begins to shake again. Looking at each other, Clara and Lex lunge forward, tackling Earl on the way. They successfully land on the floor of the elevator just as the bridge crumbles to the ground.

Lex knows he’s incredibly lucky to have survived, that if it hadn’t been for Clara, he would have died. It’s not the first time he’s had such thoughts, though this time around it’s a little more baffling. He’s read stories of miraculous feats of strength performed by parents when rescuing their children, but he can’t help feeling like this is something completely different.

“Clara, how did you pull us up?”

Utterly exhausted and in pain, Clara can only mutter, “I don’t know.”

***

Thankfully for Clara, due to all the chaos, no one seems to have cottoned on to the fact that Clara is no longer with her parents, nor is anyone wondering just how she’d managed to get herself inside the plant. Instead, with the EMTs and SWAT focusing on Earl, the press interviewing the parents and trying to get shots of the crazed gunman and Lex, the hero of the hour, Clara is entirely able to escape notice.

Seeing her parents, she runs towards them and into their warm embrace.

“I’ve never been so happy to see you in my life!” Martha cries joyfully.

“Does that mean I’m no longer grounded?” she weakly asks, even as she hugs back just as tightly.

“Don’t push your luck,” Jonathan says with a laugh, and he tugs her in even closer.

Lex, on the other hand, after shaking off the EMTS, slowly walks over to his father who remains standing in the same spot. “You lied to me.”

“No. When? I told you Level 3 wasn’t on any plans. It wasn’t.”

As Lex turns his head away with a scoff, Lionel continues. “It’s plausible deniability.”

“What were you doing down there?”

“It doesn’t matter. It was a failure. We closed the door and moved on.”

Lex looks at him with disbelief mixed with anger. “You almost got me killed.”

“No, you almost got yourself killed. It was your call, remember?”

“Mr. Luthor!”

Seeing the press coming towards them, Lionel turns to Lex. “I’ll handle this.”

“Mr. Luthor, what can you tell us about Level 3?” a male reporter asks.

“I think you’re referring to a redundant storage area at the base of the plant. Mr. Jenkins is a very sick man who desperately needs medical attention-”

Lex steps forward. “That’s why my father and I have pledged to find Mr. Jenkins the best medical care possible. He was a LuthorCorp employee and here at LuthorCorp, we always put family first. Isn’t that right, dad?”

Lionel shoots the press a smile, but Lex can see the fury in his eyes.

A female reporter asks, “Mr. Luthor, is it true the government is trying to shut you down?”

“No, no, no. No more questions, please,” Lionel says, and taking advantage of the convenient excuse, he turns and pulls Lex into a hug. “My son has been through quite an ordeal today.”

Lionel taps and rubs Lex’s back as though in comfort, though the hug is stiff and awkward, with Lex’s arms trapped at his sides.

Over Lionel’s shoulder, Lex sees Clara and her parents, who are still hugging and smiling and genuinely radiating joy at their reunion. And he can’t help the stab of bitter jealousy that wracks through him.

Just then, Clara looks over as if to check that he’s doing okay. Her tender smile dissolves much of the bitterness roiling in his stomach. She’d once again saved his life today, and he knows without a shred of doubt that she wouldn’t even think to ask for a thank you. And he at last admits to himself that his attempt to erase his inappropriate feelings for her has failed miserably.

As he drinks in her care for him like a man dying of thirst, it hits him that Clara looks… okay. The pain that had clearly been written on her face is now gone, and while he could attribute that to her joy at being safely reunited with her parents, when combined with questions of just how she’d gotten inside the plant and broken through a thick cement wall, not to mention just how she’d managed to vertically deadlift two grown men with one arm…

Once the press disperses to follow Earl and the other rescued hostages, Lionel abruptly releases Lex. He looks away from Clara before his father can catch his interest, and reluctantly heads towards the EMTs. Now that the crisis is over, he can feel the throbbing at the back of his head like a jackhammer to the skull.

Just before he gets into the back of an ambulance, he looks back at the still smiling Kents now walking towards the exit. Telling himself that his interest in her is purely academic, his eyes thoughtfully narrow as he ponders the mystery that is Clara Kent.

***

That night, Clara lies awake in her bed, her mind whirling. With everyone now safe and no other mystery occupying her mind, she can’t help but think about the key hidden under her mattress that may be the secret to unlocking all the answers she’s ever wanted to know about herself and her past and just why she’s here. And yet she finds herself unable to do anything about it. What if the key isn’t what she suspects? Or doesn’t lead her to answers she seeks? Or it does, but the answers aren’t what she hopes to hear?

Clara tells herself that it’s not like she’ll be able to do anything with the ship even if she gets it open. Even if she could go back to whatever alien planet she’d come from, Earth is her home and her parents and her friends are here. Everything and everyone she cares about is here, and she can’t – won’t – leave them behind.

So what’s the harm in trying to open the ship? Surely getting even a single definitive answer is no worse than endlessly imagining the possibilities?

When a minute passes, then two, then five, Clara throws in the proverbial towel. She lifts up the mattress with one hand and pulls out the metal key with the other. She runs her thumb over the weird symbols engraved on three of the sides of the octagon, before quietly making her way out of the house and to the back forty where she’d buried her ship.

Despite digging at normal speed, it doesn’t take long before the ship is revealed.

Taking a deep breath, she pulls the key from her pocket. To her surprise, she feels it vibrate in her hand, and she feels a tug, as though the key is magnetically attracted to the ship. Clara lets it go, and she watches with bated breath as the key flies towards where there’s a matching octagonal indent. The key rotates in the air until it seems to hit the correct position, before fitting seamlessly into the slot. The engine whirs as the ship powers up, before it rises into the air. A bright light seems to emanate from inside the ship before seams appear in the main, egg-shaped part of the pod.

Which then suddenly retracts, revealing to Clara the interior of the pod.

She’s devastated to find that it’s completely empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you Lex wouldn't be gone for forever! And he's now beginning to become suspicious of Clara! 
> 
> A couple of things:
> 
> 1) The show makes it look like Earl shot Whitney in the arm, but the gun doesn't go off and it's only him hitting the console that causes him pain, so I changed it into him fracturing his ribs and getting his arm cut open instead. Also, it never made sense to me that Whitney, a senior, would be accompanying the freshman class on their field trip, so I came up with a possible explanation.
> 
> 2) Clark's reaction to Earl during the episode was never consistent, so I decided to make it so that Clara always feels a reaction when she's near Earl since the meteor rock fragments under his skin is there regardless of whether he's having a seizure or not. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you think!


End file.
